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WHAT  THE  CRITICS  SAY  OF 

THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO 

CHARLES   ROSS  JACKSON 


•*  The  novel  is  written  with  a  great  deal  of  skill  and  possesses  an 
abundance  of  action  and  dramatic  power.  It  is  not  always  convincing, 
but  it  has  the  commendable  faculty  of  holding  the  interest  until  the  last 
word.     Louis  F.  Grant  contributes  a  number  of  effective  illustrations." 

—Philadelphia  Press. 

**  There  are  readers  whose  jaded  taste  calls  for  something  thrilling. 
Charles  Ross  Jackson  is  the  author  for  their  money." 

— Rochester  Democrat  and  Chronicle. 

**  Few  writers  have  a  better  knack  of  writing  swiftly  moving  stories 
of  adventure  than  Charles  Ross  Jackson.  He  who  reads  '  The  Sheriff 
of  Wasco '  for  leisure  hour  pleasure  will  consider  himself  fortunate  once 
he  has  well  started  its  perusal." — Cleveland  Plaindealer. 

"  The  story  presents  the  criminal  phase  of  life  in  the  West,  and 
describes  the  deeds  of  daring  and  danger  performed  by  '  The  Sheriff  of 
Wasco '  in  his  war  upon  outlaws  and  desperadoes. " —  Toledo  Blade. 

"  It  is  a  lively  story,  well  told,  ingenious  and  has  a  somewhat  novel 
twist  to  the  plot,  in  that  the  Sheriff  makes  the  girl  believe  that  he  is  the 
outlaw  and  arouses  her  love  and  admiration  even  under  these  disadvan- 
tageous conditions." — New  York  Sun. 

"  One  of  the  most  exciting  scenes  in  the  book  is  the  fight  between 
the  two  men,  with  none  but  nature's  weapons.  It  is  graphic  to  an 
extreme,  and  the  reader  is  more  inclined  to  cry  'Go  it! '  than  to  be 
repelled  by  the  brutality  of  it.     It  forms  a  fitting  close  to  the  story." 

—  Chicago  Tribune. 

**  *  The  Sheriff  of  Wasco'  is  a  book  to  bring  back  the  thrills  of  boy- 
hood, when  deeds  of  daring  had  a  glamour  beyond  anything  ever 
dreamed  of  by  the  poets.  It  is  a  story  of  adventure  in  wild  Western 
days." — New  York  Tribune. 

"Charles  Ross  Jackson  has  told  a  good  story  in  'The  Sheriff  of 
Wasco,*  a  yarn  with  a  fascinating  plot,  extremely  interesting  characters, 
and  abounding  in  bits  of  desperate  adventure." — Boston  Globe. 

'*  We  do  not  know  whether  *  The  Sheriff  of  Wasco,'  by  Charles 
Roas  Jackson,  has  been  dramatized  or  not,  but  if  not  it  ought  to  be. 
There  is  a  great  deal  of  thrilling  material  in  it  and  plenty  of  rapid  fire 
action.  One  of  the  most  vividly  described  combats  ever  seen  on  any 
iXz%t,*''~''Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

i2mo^  Cloth  boundy  Illustrated^  $1.30 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CO..  Piiblist>ets,  NEW  YORK 


They  were  alone  on  the  wild  mountainside. 

Frontispiece. 


Pasre  135 


THE  SHERIFF 
OF    WASCO 


BY 


CHARLES  ROSS  JACKSON 


Illustrations  by 
LOUIS    R   GRANT 


G.   W.    DILLINGHAM    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1907,  BY 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CO. 


All  Rights  Reserved 
(Issued  April,  1907) 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco 


5/)e 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 


I.  The  Sheriff's  Duty 9 

II.  The  ]\[ountain  Camp 30 

III.  The  New  Boss 47 

IV.  Mr.  Thorn's  Daughter 64 

V.  In  the  Silent  Land 85 

YI.  The  Stranger 98 

VII.  The  Night  on  the  Mesa 113 

VIII.  A  DouBTFUTL,  Identity 121 

IX.  The  Return  Journey - 134 

X.  A  Nocturnal  Adventure 150 

XI.  The  Sheriff  Under  Fire 161 

XII.  A  Hardened  Sinner 172 

XIII.  On  the  Rampage 184 

XIV.  The  Revelation 195 

XV.  A  Visit  to  Hilltown 205 

XVI.  The  Sheriff  and  Talabam 226 

XVII.  Man  to  Man 244 

XVIII.  Hardeman's  Defl\nce 263 

XIX.  A  Midnight  Visit 280 

XX.  The  Reckoning 205 


MGGS70G 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


"  So  are  ;'<?2^  a  dandy  " ^^4 

They  were  alone  on  the  wild  mountamside  .  .  .  i35 
"Hands  up,  Hardeman— you're  my  prisoner"  .  .258 
All  the  afternoon  they  rode  alone  beneath  the  leafy 

canopies 3^2 


THE   SHEEIFF  OF   WASCO. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  sheriff's  DUTY. 

Wasco  County  in  the  State  of  Oregon  had 
recently  held  an  election  to  fill  the  vacant  post 
of  Sheriff.  Considering  the  vote  was  unani- 
mous, there  being  but  one  candidate  who  aspired 
to  the  honor,  a  stranger  might  have  thought 
Wasco  was  unduly  triumphant  and  elated  at  the 
result.  The  citizens,  however,  knew  their  own 
affairs.  The  last  Sheriff  had  been  shot,  and  his 
posse  overpowered,  by  a  band  of  desperate  law- 
breakers and  criminals  who  had  chosen  the  hills 
of  Wasco  county  for  their  rendezvous.  The 
leader,  a  wild  cutthroat  named  Hardeman, 
whom  the  marshals  and  sheriffs  of  other  states 
would  gladly  have  laid  their  hands  on,  had  sent 
an  insolent  defiance  into  Centreville,  begging 
for  an  early  election,  that  he  might  have  another 
Sheriff  to  annihilate. 

The  newly-elected  Sheriff  was  not  a  politician 

9 


10  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

but  a  civil  engineer  by  profession.  Heretofore 
he  bad  held  a  good  position  with  the  railroad, 
and  was  generally  regarded  as  a  man  of  pros- 
pects. But  when  the  old  Sheriff  was  shot  and 
the  people  of  Wasco  sought  in  their  indignation 
and  distress  for  some  one  whom  they  could  pit 
against  Hardeman  and  his  ruffians,  it  was  to  this 
young  engineer,  who  had  lived  the  greater  part 
of  his  life  in  their  midst,  and  whom  they  knew 
for  a  man  of  indomitable  courage  and  resource- 
fulness, that  their  hopes  turned.  He  was  the 
man  for  the  emergency,  if  he  could  but  be  per- 
suaded of  it.  So  a  committee  of  the  citizens 
waited  upon  him  and  in  breezy  Western  style  in- 
formed him  how  the  case  stood.  They  knew  he 
was  doing  well  with  the  railroad,  they  admitted, 
and  that  the  position  of  Sheriff  was  a  mighty  poor 
one  alongside  the  one  that  he  held.  But  they 
needed  somebody  besides  a  politician  for  Sheriff 
just  now.  They  hereby  requested  him  to  run  for 
office,  because  they  thought  he  was  the  kind  that 
could  rid  the  county  of  Hardeman  and  his  gang. 
They  firmly  believed  he  was  the  only  man  there- 
abouts who  was  built  with  the  necessary  quali- 
fications; and  they  needed  his  services — by  thun- 
der, they  did. 

The  young  man  colored  slightly,  looked  keenly 
at  the  committee  as  it  faced  him  expectantly, 
and  remarked : — 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WAISCO.  11 

"  If  the  citizens  of  Wasco  want  me,  if  they 
think  thej  need  me — hang  it,  I'll  try  I  '^ 

This  was  the  reason  for  the  rejoicing  and  the 
lack  of  opposition  in  Wasco. 

He  entered  on  his  duties  as  Sheriff  with  a 
quiet  enthusiasm  that  hugely  delighted  his 
friends,  because  they  knew  its  meaning  so  well. 
Though  he  was  young  he  was  of  the  kind  that 
raises  expectations  in  men's  minds  when  cool- 
ness and  ready  wit  and  iron  courage  are  the 
needs  of  the  moment.  Tall,  lean  and  brown, 
with  a  gray-blue  fearless  eye  that  women  remem- 
bered and  criminals  also  if  they  lived  long 
enough,  he  knew  every  one  of  the  desperadoes  by 
sight,  and  they  knew  him  for  the  best  shot  in 
Oregon. 

Some  day,  sooner  or  later,  Hardeman  was  go- 
ing to  meet  a  man  who  could  'jigM,  and  who  could 
draw  his  gun  with  a  quick,  silent,  hitching  mo- 
tion that  was  quicker  than  the  draw  of  any  other 
man  in  the  Northwest ;  and  the  county  of  Wasco 
was  deeply,  supremely  confident  of  the  result. 

The  efforts  of  the  new  Sheriff  were  crowned 
with  success,  one  reason  for  which,  perhaps,  was 
his  daredevil  spirit  and  the  inborn  love  of  ad- 
venture which  carried  him  beyond  what  even 
outlaws  themselves  would  dare.  He  was  their 
close  kinsman  in  that  respect;  indeed  he  might 
have  been  an  outlaw  himself  were  it  not  for  the 


12  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

unswerving  upward  slant  of  his  nature  toward 
righteousness  which  had  made  him  a  Sheriff  in- 
stead. No  expedition  that  he  led  failed.  His 
posses  followed  him  with  boundless  faith,  be- 
cause it  was  a  peculiarity  of  his  to  inspire  con- 
fidence in  those  whom  he  enlisted.  After  six 
months  such  a  number  of  the  renegades  had  suf- 
fered capture  or  death  that  the  remainder  were 
severely  discouraged  and  melted  away  to  points 
beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  the  young  Wasco 
Sheriff.  Some  few,  however,  remained;  and  of 
these  the  most  dangerous  was  the  leader,  Harde- 
man, who  held  his  ground,  breathing  wild  oaths 
of  vengeance  on  his  enemy. 

The  high  crimes  for  which  this  outlaw  w^as  re- 
sponsible were  numerous,  and  their  details  only 
too  well  known  to  every  man  in  that  region.  Ab- 
ductions, train  robberies,  and  hold-ups  in  nearly 
every  neighboring  county  and  state  were  in  the 
list.  He  was  wanted  for  several  murders,  mostly 
of  women  who  had  fallen  into  his  clutches;  yet 
side  by  side  with  the  stories  of  his  fierce  lawless- 
ness and  inhuman  disregard  for  life  came  queer 
tales  of  his  good  looks  and  his  gallantry  to  the 
sex.  Evil  and  cruel  and  treacherous  as  he  was  at 
all  times,  he  could  nevertheless  be  agreeable  and 
ingratiating,  and  could  fawn  and  flatter  like  a 
courtier  when  it  suited  his  own  purposes.  Men 
feared  him  for  his  cunning  and  his  murderous 


TUE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  13 

tendencies,  his  strength,  and  his  deadly  use  of 
his  gun.  Women  feared  him  as  they  would  have 
feared  a  wild  man-ape  or  a  passionate  gorilla. 
When  he  captured  a  woman  he  rarely  allowed  his 
followers  access  to  her,  having  competent  de- 
vices of  his  own  for  torturing  her  to  death.  Here 
and  there  one  would  escape  wholly  unharmed. 
But  this  whimsical  mercy  appeared  to  be  due 
merely  to  his  vanity,  for  despite  his  rapacity 
and  wickedness  he  had  a  grimly  humorous  con- 
ception of  himself  as  a  lovelorn  troubadour,  and 
occasionally  it  happened  that  a  victim  would  owe 
her  escape  to  it. 

One  day  some  twenty  miles  outside  Centreville 
the  Sheriff  and  his  posse,  wet  to  the  skin  and 
fiercely  disgusted  with  the  mere  mention  of 
outlaws,  climbed  sullenly  a  lonely  hillside  trail. 
A  storm  was  raging,  and  the  heights  above  were 
a  dripping  tangled  wilderness,  while  below  the 
dark  swaying  growths  concealed  the  precipitous 
descent  to  the  river,  rushing  with  the  voice  and 
fury  of  a  torrent  toward  the  falls  half  a  mile 
lower  down  the  gorge. 

Somewhere  in  the  storm-beaten  wilds  above 
was  Hardeman  with  the  remnant  of  his  gang, 
only  five  now,  but  all  the  choicer  spirits,  for  it 
was  a  war  which  only  the  fittest  survived  to 
fight.  Their  latest  outbreak  had  been  a  bank 
robbery  not  far  from  Centreville,  in  the  perform- 


14  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

ance  of  which  they  had  murdered  the  watch- 
man and  escaped  untouched  with  their  plunder 
into  the  hills.  A  young  settler,  known  to  the  lo- 
cality as  Jeff,  had  carried  the  news  to  the  Sheriff 
at  Centreville  and  been  one  of  the  first  to  join 
the  posse  which  started  instantly  in  pursuit. 

High  up  around  the  shoulder  of  the  hill  as  it 
rose  sheerly  out  of  the  gorge  and  flung  its  wooded 
contours  against  the  stormy  sky,  a  light  gleamed 
through  the  drenched  boughs.  It  came  from  a 
deserted  cabin  standing  well  back  from  the  trail 
and  almost  overhanging  the  steep.  Within  its 
shelter  were  the  five  whom  the  posse,  two  miles 
further  down  the  trail,  was  seeking.  Hardeman 
himself  was  not  present.  With  the  wariness  of 
the  large  beast  of  prey  he  was  prowling  about 
the  vicinity  of  his  new  lair  before  intrusting 
himself  to  it,  and  in  his  absence  those  lesser  ones 
were  drinking  and  boasting  and  otherwise  mak- 
ing merry,  believing  themselves  secured  by  the 
tempest. 

"  What  a  sweet  night !  Say  you,  leave  some- 
thing in  that  bottle,  will  you,  an'  shove  it  along 
here  quick.  What  d'  you  think  's  keeping  Devil 
Hardeman  out  so  long?" 

"  Blown  over  the  cliff,  I  hope,  where  the  shack's 
goin'  too  if  this  wind  keeps  up.  No,  you  don't 
git  that  bottle,  Tarrant;  you've  had  enough. 
Want  to  git  the  Devil  down  on  us?  " 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  15 

"  That's  all  right.  I'll  drink  when  I  choose, 
an'  the  Devil  be  hanged.  Where's  that  loot  he's 
got  stowed  awaj  somewhere  fer  safe-keepin' — 
eh?  Tell  me  that,  will  you?  I  want  my  share. 
He's  a  hawg,  he  is." 

"  Tell  him  so,  sonny." 

The  shack  resounded  with  a  growling  laugh. 
The  boaster  subsided. 

'"Yes,  he's  a  hawg  all  right,"  agreed  the 
second.  "  He  gits  the  hawg's  share  of  it  all — ■ 
incloodin'  the  loot  an'  the  fun,  an'  most  partick- 
larly  the  sex.  Ladies  is  his  prime  stunt,  ther's 
no  denyin'  it.  You,  Tarrant,  we  hereby  app'int 
you  a  committee  o'  one  to  tell  him  them  there 
failin's  o'  his." 

Evidently  it  was  a  joke  which  bore  repetition. 
The  servility  of  their  leering  laughter,  the 
abashed  anger  of  the  one  they  taunted,  bore  wit- 
ness for  them  that  they  were  lesser  ones,  and 
had  a  master  whose  qualities  they  envied  and 
feared. 

"  Who're  you  to  talk  anyway?"  said  the  butt, 
aroused  to  valor  by  their  jeers.  "  Think  I'm 
one  o'  your  sort,  do  you?  Why  you  couldn't 
shoot  that  bank  watchman  last  week  at  twenty 
yards,  an'  Hardeman  had  to  come  an'  smash  him 
on  the  head  afore  he'd  keep  quiet.  When  I 
shoot,  I  shoot  straight.  An'  when  I  git  ready  to 
talk  to  Hardeman  he'll  listen,  you  bet." 


16  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

"  But  while  he's  here  you  won't  drink. — Take 
that,  jou  barking  pup." 

The  band  wheeled  around  cautiously  as  a 
heavy  flask,  aimed  at  Tarrant's  head,  emphasized 
the  words  and  silenced  him.  Within  the  wind- 
shaken  door  stood  their  master,  his  evil  mouth 
smiling  at  them. 

"  I'm  listening,  you  bluffers.  Don't  you  all 
talk  at  once,"  he  scoffed.  His  voice  was  as  evil 
as  his  mouth,  but  neither  loud  nor  harsh;  on  the 
contrary,  it  was  as  smooth  and  quiet  and  fascin- 
ating as  the  blue  sheen  on  his  half-raised  Colt. 

"  You  can  put  up  yer  gun.  We  ain't  kickin'," 
said  one  of  the  lesser  ones. 

"  That's  good." 

Hardeman  slipped  back  the  Colt,  and  slouched 
toward  them  jeeringly,  not  yet  placated.  He 
was  the  youngest,  though  he  was  chief.  It  was 
a  jest  among  them,  though  one  not  mentioned  in 
his  presence,  that  he  was  not  unlike  his  mortal 
enemy  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco.  A  handsome  air  of 
strength  sat  on  his  wild  face,  not  overcome  even 
by  its  potentiality  for  wickedness.  He  had  the 
deadly  grace  and  sureness  of  movement  of  the 
panther,  and  he  was  equally  unhampered  by 
those  little  weaknesses  that  come  with  the 
growth  of  the  social  instinct,  such  as  mercy  and 
justice,  and  consideration  for  the  rights  of 
others.    Else  he  would  not  have  been  the  alert 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  17 

bandit  he  was,  or  the  master  of  that  assembled 
company. 

His  eyes,  glittering  with  savage  satire,  were 
fixed  upon  Tarrant  the  boaster,  who  stood  di- 
rectly in  front  of  the  shelf  whereon  reposed  two 
bottles  of  the  forbidden  whiskey.  Pausing  for 
the  space  of  a  second  before  him  the  master  ban- 
dit whipped  out  his  Colt  again  with  a  lightning 
like  flash,  and  sent  two  shots  crashing  past  the 
fellow's  face,  so  close  that  the  boaster  stood  with 
a  streak  of  blood  traversing  one  cheek,  while  be- 
hind his  head  the  bottles  flew  to  splinters  and 
the  whiskey  dripped  over  the  shelf. 

"  Seems  to  me  you  said  y'  could  shoot  straight. 
Any  straighter'n  that,  Mr.  Tarrant?  ''  inquired 
Hardeman  softly  and  insolently. 

The  frightened  bandit  staggered  back  against 
the  wall,  his  hands  upraised.  "  I'm  done.  I 
ain't  in  the  same  class  with  you.  You're  Devil 
Hardeman,"  he  laughed  with  shaking  servility. 

"  Keep  it  in  yer  mind,"  said  Hardeman.  Then 
he  looked  round  the  group. 

"  No  drinks  fer  this  outfit  till  we're  in  safe 
territory.  That's  my  rule,  an'  you  know  it. 
Understand?  I  ain't  no  Temperance  lady  or- 
dinarily.   Any  o'  you  got  objections  to  make?" 

They  agreed  with  him  hastily,  knowing  his  un- 
certain temper.  With  one  hand  on  his  hip  he 
surveyed    them,    a    swaggering    smile    on    his 


18  THE  SHERIFF  OF  ^YASCO. 

swarthy  face  proclaiming  that,  despite  appear- 
ances, his  mood  tonight  was  amiable. 

"  No  drinks,  boys,  but  something  a  heap  bet- 
ter. The  trouble  with  us  is  our  tastes  ain't  re- 
fined enough.  We're  a  set  o'  wanderin'  prodigal 
sons.  Livin'  the  way  we  do  we  don't  git  no  re- 
fined comp'ny  to  speak  of.  Ain't  that  so?"  He 
closed  one  eye  and  leered  at  them  with  the  other, 
while  his  face  with  its  wild  suggestions  of  beauty 
was  doubly  terrible  because  of  some  seed  of 
possible  goodness  that  had  once  struggled  for 
growth  in  it,  but  was  now  lost  for  ever.  ''  Seems 
to  me  this  here  outfit's  in  need  o'  the  elevatin' 
sassiety  o'  womankind." 

With  shouts  of  profane  laughter  they  crowded 
about  him,  demanding  eagerly  to  know  his 
plans.    So  he  unfolded  them  shortly. 

"  The  creek  down  below  is  flooded  up.  It's  got 
hold  o'  the  sawmill,  an'  the  men  are  all  out  rakin^ 
in  the  timber — "  he  paused  again  with  the 
wicked  smile  creeping  to  his  mouth  and  his  eye- 
lid dropping  salaciously. 

With  a  whoop  of  comprehension  they  hitched 
forward  their  weapons  and  examined  them  hur- 
riedly. He  was  a  leader  to  follow,  despite  his 
slight  faults  of  temperament.  But  a  sudden  un- 
pleasant thought  struck  one  of  them. 

"  There's  that  consarned  thief  of  a  Sheriff ! 
Whereabouts  do  you  reckon  he  is  to-night?  " 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  19 

"  In  bed  with  his  nightcap  an'  a  hot  water 
bottle,"  said  Hardeman  in  his  slow,  fiercely 
musical  voice.  "  Or  he'd  better  be,  hang  him  I 
But  just  in  case  he  ain't — "  the  master  bandit 
betrayed  the  unadmitted  fear  in  his  soul  as  he 
drew  out  a  white  hairy  mass  from  his  clothing, 
and  in  another  moment  stood  transfigured  before 
their  eyes,  a  tall  old  man,  white-haired  and 
diabolic,  with  a  tragic  limp. 

They  howled  their  appreciation  of  him.  Lay- 
ing his  Colt  on  the  table  he  condescended  to  the 
humor  of  the  moment,  and  hobbled  amiably 
about  the  dimly-lit  shack. 

"  The  natural  protector  of  distressed  ladies ! 
That's  me!  Ask  the  Sheriff  o'  Wasco,"  he 
drawled  sportiyely.  "  He's  the  reg'ler  hall- 
marked article  himself " 

But  the  master  had  done  a  rare  thing  in  sep- 
arating himself  from  his  weapon — and  it  proved 
a  deadly  mistake.  With  a  ponderous  crash  the 
crazy  door  of  the  shack  flew  open;  in  a  second 
the  room  was  filled  with  a  crowd  of  determined- 
faced  angry  men.  Foremost  among  them  was 
the  Sheriff,  at  whose  nod  a  man  leaped  forward 
and  seized  the  Colt  lying  on  the  table.  Harde- 
man recognized  him  as  the  settler  who  bad  wit- 
nessed the  affair  at  the  bank  and  escaped,  owing 
to  bad  management. 

The  surprised  bandits  made  a  desperate  fight. 


20  THE  SIIEIUFF  OF   WASCO 

The  posse  was  furious  to  discover  that  the  leader, 
the  chief  object  of  the  pursuit,  was  apparently 
absent.  In  the  instant  melee  that  took  place 
they  had  no  time  to  notice  the  lame,  hoary 
headed  wickedness  standing  unarmed,  but  dia- 
bolically alert,  in  the  corner,  his  eyes  glaring  de- 
fiance as  the  band,  grimly  fighting,  w^ent  down 
before  the  victorious  angry  posse. 

Seeing  himself  unobserved,  an  illumined 
crafty  look  mingled  for  a  second  with  his  malig- 
nancy. Another  second  and  rage  got  the  better 
of  craft  as  the  third  man  went  down  with  a 
bullet  in  his  shoulder,  shouting  to  him  for  help. 
With  a  snarl  of  fury  the  white-haired  one  leaped 
on  the  assailants,  flinging  them  back  with  pro- 
digious strength,  wielding  his  aged  iron  fists  like 
sledge-hammers.  A  pistol  held  in  the  hand  of 
Jeff,  the  informer,  pointing  straight  between  his 
eyes  recalled  him.  Of  what  use  to  betray  him- 
self to  yonder  lynx-eyed  enemy  of  his,  the 
Sheriff,  whom  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  he 
dreaded — for  a  mere  matter  of  friendship? 
Black  rage  almost  stifling  him,  he  flung  up  his 
hands  and  backed  off  limping. 

"  Shootin'  lame  old  ducks  ain^t  just  in  my  line, 
an'  I'd  certainly  hate  to  hurt  ye,''  said  the  young 
settler  grimly  as  he  followed  him,  across  the 
cabin.  "  You  go  an'  set  down  an'  leave  this  busi- 
ness to  us." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO.  21 

The  disguised  master  grinned  murderously 
into  the  face  of  the  younger  man. 

'^  Put  up  yer  gun,  baby  face,  an'  I'll  show  you 
blazin'  quick  which  of  us  is  the  man,"  he 
mouthed,  rage  quickening  the  ordinary  slow  in- 
solence of  his  Yoice.  ' 

'^  Likely  ye  would.  Ye  surely  scare  me,"  said 
Jeff  disrespectfully. 

The  posse  meantime  was  securing  the  pri- 
soners. '^  What'll  we  do  with  this  here  lame  old 
Santy  Claus,  Sheriff?"  said  Jeff  without  turn- 
ins;  his  head.    "  Brinof  him  alon^?  " 

The  Sheriff  glanced  round  from  his  occupation 
in  another  corner.  The  murky  light  showed  him 
nothing  beyond  the  attitude  of  the  two,  yet  he 
seemed  slow  in  replying. 

^•'  I'll  send  round  a  carriage  an'  pair  for  him, 
Jeff,  if  it  will  oblige  you.  Ain't  you  afraid  o^ 
hurting  his  feelings  with  those  rough  tactics  o' 
yours?"  There  was  a  sarcastic,  doubtful  twist 
on  the  speaker's  mouth ;  his  cap  was  cocked  back- 
w^ard  at  a  challenging  angle.  "  Was  he  with  'em 
that  night  at  the  bank?  " 

"  Xope,  didn't  see  no  grandpaps  in  that  job," 
responded  the  settler. 

''  Well,  maybe  you  was  some  excited,"  said  the 
Sheriff  tolerantly.  He  had  risen  to  his  full 
height,  and  his  eyes  were  flashing  inquiringly  up 
and  down  the  singularly  powerful  bulk  of  the 


22  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

white-haired  one.  "  Suppose  jou  step  lively  here 
to  the  light,  grandad/'  he  suggested.  ^'  I  don't 
seem  to  see  you  real  well  there." 

The  accumulating  suspicion  of  the  remark 
brought  about  an  instantaneous  explosion  in  the 
shack.  Before  a  single  man  of  the  startled  posse 
could  comprehend,  the  outlaw  had  turned  and 
in  one  leap  knocked  Jeff  senseless  and  gained 
the  door.  In  that  same  instant  the  Sheriff's  Colt 
crashed,  and  a  deep  furious  oath  of  pain  broke 
from  the  figure  as  it  sprang  out  into  darkness. 

Yelling  '^  Hardeman "  the  awakened  posse 
flung  pell-mell  after  it. 

But  it  was  much  too  late.  No  visible  sign  ap- 
peared, but  from  the  face  of  the  precipice  below 
arose  on  the  wind  the  smashing  sounds  of  a 
heavy  body  falling  through  the  obstructing  tree 
trunks.  Right  beneath  roared  the  current,  and 
the  posse  stared  down  into  the  blackness  with 
satisfied  faces,  saying  that  the  fugitive's  death 
was  certain. 

"  Absolutely  certain,"  assented  the  grim, 
baffled  Sheriff.  "  The  only  point  that  ain't  fully 
settled  regardin'  that  event,  boys,  is  the  date. 
That  needs  clarifyin '  before  I  bet  on  it.  Let's 
get  this  crowd  back  to  Centreville."  He  ground 
his  jaws  together  and  turned  back  to  the  other 
prisoners.  They  were  furtively  exulting,  but 
when  he  came  up  and  looked  them  over  with  hisj 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO  23 

stern,  quiet  ejes  thev  repressed  their  sense  of 
humor  and  marched  down  hill  before  him  in 
gloomy  silence. 

Meantime  the  flood  had  Hardeman  in  its 
grasp.  Had  he  been  less  hardened  and  desperate 
than  he  was,  or  his  muscles  a  whit  less  trained 
it  would  have  carried  him  over  the  falls.  The 
Sheriff's  bullet  had  grazed  his  thigh,  and  the 
pain  of  that  hampered  his  efforts,  but  he  gritted 
his  teeth  and  fought  the  currents  with  a  fury 
as  great  as  theirs,  while  they  tore  from  him  con- 
temptuously his  venerable  white  hair  and  beard, 
and  tossed  him  at  last  on  the  opposite  shore  an 
exhausted  and  much  younger  man,  safe  for  the 
present  from  pursuit. 

He  bound  up  his  wound  to  the  best  of  his 
ability;  it  was  but  a  slight  one;  and  then  lay 
in  his  dripping  clothes  and  slept  till  dawn. 
Exposure  had  no  terrors  for  his  constitution  of 
iron.  He  arose  in  the  early  morning,  a  leader 
robbed  of  his  band,  a  fierce,  slinking,  wild 
animal,  without  resources  except  such  as  his 
cunning  and  strength  could  win  for  him,  and 
consuming  with  the  desire  for  vengeance. 

It  was  not  possible  to  reach  the  Sheriff.  Be- 
sides it  was  highly  inadvisable  to  try.  But  there 
were  others  who  could  be  made  to  pay  at  less 
risk, — Jeff,  for  instance. 

Jeff  was  poorer  sport  than  Hardeman  was  per- 


24  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

sonally  interested  in,  but  he  suggested  an  idea. 
Jeff  had  a  cabin  some  twelve  miles  out  of  Centre- 
ville,  and  in  the  cabin  he  had  a  young  wife  whom 
Hardeman  knew  to  be  pretty  and  winsome. 
And  he  knew  too,  that  Jeff  was  forced  to  spend 
much  time  away  from  his  cabin. 

The  outlaw  examined  his  wounded  leg  and 
furiously  cursed  the  Sheriff.  "  He  nearly  got 
me. — The  band's  broke  up  too,  an'  I've  got  to 
light  out.  But  I'll  knock  that  Sheriff's  reputa- 
tion, an'  I'll  spoil  Jeff's  peace  o'  mind  some 
afore  I  go."  His  wicked  face  assumed  its  most 
Satanic  expression;  passion  made  his  words 
thick;  the  lurking  fiend  in  him  was  fully  roused 
and  dominant.  "  To-night's  spree  was  spoiled, 
thanks  to  the  Sheriff.  What  of  it  ?  I'll  have 
another  an'  a  better.  I'll  show  'em  now  w^hat 
Hardeman  is.  They  need  enlightenin',  they  do. 
I'll  leave  my  footprints  on  the  sands  of  time. 
I've  done  it  afore — an '  I'll  do  it  again." 

Into  Centreville  one  day,  a  week  later,  came 
limping  wildly  a  crazed,  pitiful,  battered  wreck, 
who  wept  and  pleaded  fiercely  to  see  the  Sheriff. 

"  There  he  is  comin',  Jeff; — what  is  it,  man? — 
What's  the  trouble?  "  questioned  the  sympathetic 
crowd  eagerly.  But  it  surged  along  with  him 
unanswered,  Hardeman's  name  echoing  from  lip 
to  lip.    They  knew  that  kind  of  trouble. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  25 

"Sheriff,  for  God's  sake,"  cried  the  raving 
man.  "  It's  my  wife  and  my  baby.  Hardeman's 
killed  him — my  baby.  I  came  home  and  saw  it. 
And  he's  got  my  wife.  I've  looked  for  him  two 
days.     But  I'm  beat.    Get  your  horse." 

Jeff  fell  on  his  knees  exhausted,  but  clung 
around  the  Sheriff's  legs,  raving  and  crying. 
"  Take  me  with  you.  Damn  his  black  soul — 
Take  me  with  you." 

The  Sheriff  brought  the  broken  man  upright 
on  his  feet.  The  gentleness  of  his  voice  was 
a  terrible  thing. 

"  Stand  up  Jeff,  man.  Steady !  Now,  which 
way  did  his  trail  lead  ?  " 

"  North,"  said  the  husband  dementedly.  "  I 
hope  my  girl's  dead  by  this  time."  He  wrung  his 
hands  and  fell  to  weeping  openly.  The  men 
swore  deep  oaths  at  the  sight,  for  he  had  been 
one  of  them,  and  his  unfortunate  plight  stirred 
them  to  the  core. 

"  Boys,  I'll  take  six  of  you,"  said  the  Sheriff. 
His  voice,  though  quiet,  roused  them  like  a 
bugle  call,  and  a  score  rushed  upon  him,  begging 
and  swearing.  He  chose  his  six.  "Get  your 
guns  and  horses,  we'll  start  in  twenty  minutes. 
Bring  along  grub  for  six  days." 

They  cursed  him  in  grim  joy.  "  You'll  get  him, 
Sheriff;  you'll  get  the this  time,"  and  scat- 
tered after  their  horses  and  guns. 


26  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO 

But  the  stricken  man  prayed  and  entreated  to 
be  taken  also,  all  useless  as  he  was  to  this  gather- 
ing whirlwind  of  justice.  The  Sheriff  staved  a 
moment  to  console  him. 

"  Leave  it  to  us,  Jeff.  The  bovs  are  in  a 
terrible  hurry,  and  if  you  kept  'em  back  for  one 
minute  you'd  never  forgive  yourself.  We'll  get 
him  quicker  without  you." 

"  You'll  bring  him  back  to  me,  Sheriff  ! " 

"  Can't  promise  that,  Jeff.  But  if  I  don't 
you'll  know  he's  in  hell,"  said  the  Sheriff  com- 
fortingly as  he  strode  away. 

In  less  than  the  twenty  minutes  the  posse  had 
gathered  again,  every  one  of  the  grim-faced  men 
who  stayed  behind  inspecting  the  riders,  eagerly 
assisting  and  offering  advice. 

"  How's  that  pony's  foot,  Jim?  You  kin  have 
mine  if  you  want  to." — "  Going  to  take  the  upper 
trail.  Sheriff?  Yep — bring  you  out  quicker,  an' 
the  ponies  '11  stand  it  all  right. — So  long — and 
luck  to  you ! "  and  they  held  back  the  leader's 
horse  by  the  bit,  while  they  reminded  him. 
"  Don't  shoot  him  if  you  can  help  it,  Sheriff. 
We'd  like  to  see  him  first. — But  if  you  do  shoot 
• — by  thunder,  shoot  quick,"  they  cried  as  the 
posse  rattled  past  toward  the  upper  trail. 

"  Don't  you  worry  'bout  that,  boys,"  the 
Sheriff  called  back.  The  excitement  of  the  rest 
seemed  not  to  have  touched  him;  or  if  it  had  it 


THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO.  27 

showed  only  in  his  greater  command  of  himself 
and  them. 

As  he  rode  off,  jamming  his  visored  cap  down 
to  shade  his  eyes,  the  sunshine  gleaming  on  his 
brown,  keen  face„  he  was  determined  in  his  heart 
that  this  v/ould  be  his  last  search  for  Hardeman. 
But  he  felt  not  an  inkling  of  where  the  quest 
would  lead  him,  nor  of  the  novel  company  in 
which  it  would  finally  reach  an  end.  Sheer 
excitement  over  the  start  caused  a  bystander 
to  laugh  gruffly  and  confide  to  his  neighbor. 
"  HandBome  cuss — darned  if  he  ain't — that 
Sheriff." 

For  the  posse  the  quest  was  shorter  than 
they  had  anticipated.  They  found  Hardeman's 
tracks,  and  next  day  they  found  Jeff's  wife. 
Her  husband's  wish  concerning  her  had  come 
true.  She  was  dead,  and  the  outlaw  had  left  a 
note  with  her  for  the  Sheriff,  sublimely  confident 
that  he  would  come  for  it. 

"  So  long.  Sheriff,"  he  w^ote,  "  I'm  crossing 
the  Columbia.  Washington  suits  my  health 
better  than  Oregon.  You're  beat,  you  long- 
legged  cockerel." 

The  Sheriff  read  this  missive  with  a  look  of 
profound  regret.  Then  he  put  it  in  his  pocket 
and  looked  round  on  his  dejected  posse. 

"  I  reckon  you  won't  be  in  at  the  finish, 
bovs.    He's  crossed  the  Columbia.    I'm  real  dis- 


28  THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO, 

appointed  on  your  accounts."  Grunts  of  rage 
and  disgust  answered  him  and  told  him  the 
strength  of  their  feelings.  "  But  I'll  bring  him 
to  jou  if  he'll  come  alive,"  he  assured  them. 

"  How  I  You  goin'  across  into  Washington, 
Sheriff?  " 

"  Sure.  Goin'  to  China  and  the  North  Pole 
if  it's  necessary.  I'm  going  to  get  the  man  that 
did  this  thing — "  the  Sheriff  looked  down  with 
smouldering  eyes,  "  the  man  that  did  this  ain't 
fit  to  w^alk  this  fair  earth.  I'll  get  the  necessary 
legal  permission  and  follow  him  until  I  get  him." 

Their  confidence  in  him  comforted  them  some- 
what, and  with  variously  expressed  emphasis 
they  assented. 

"  But  we'd  like  to  be  with  you,  Sheriff — dog- 
gone it,  we'd  like  to  be  with  you  at  the  finish," 
they  complained  bitterly. 

"  It  won't  be  possible,  boys;  I've  got  a  notion 
he'll  strike  up  north  to  the  Olympics  and  their 
wilderness.  He'll  find  plenty  of  his  own  sort 
there."  As  he  spoke  the  Sheriff  took  his  horse 
and  was  ready  to  depart  when  he  remembered 
something.  "  Somebody'd  oughter  look  in  and 
do  the  right  thing  for  Jeff's  little  kid.  Poor 
Jeff's  so  locoed,  I  guess  he's  clean  forgot  that," 
he  said  in  his  gentlest  voice. 

"All  right,  Sheriff,"  they  answered  heartily. 
"  We'll  tend  to  that.    And  you?  " 


THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO  29 

"  I'll  get  right  back  to  Centreville  and  use  the 
telegraph.  I'll  finish  the  details  by  morning  and 
get  the  proper  authority  tc  act,  and  then  I'll 
take  the  train  north.  He  won't  beat  me  by  many 
hours." 

"  An'  when  you  get  him,  Sheriff — when  you  get 
him?  "  they  muttered  vengefully. 

The  Sheriff's  face  hardened.  "  When  I  get 
him,  boys — "  he  repeated,  the  flash  of  steel  glim- 
mering between  his  narrowing  eyelids  "  When  I 
get  him — Ye  gods,  do  you  have  to  ask?"  he  in- 
quired with  the  explosive  fury  of  an  oath,  and 
then,  turning  his  horse,  he  galloped  rapidly 
away. 

The  posse  buried  Jeff's  wife  and  later  his 
child,  and  returned  to  town  in  the  early  hours 
of  the  morning.  The  Sheriff  was  already  gone. 
Those  who  had  seen  him  remarked  that  he  had 
said  scarcely  a  word  upon  going  except,  "  Poor 
Jeff,  poor  Jeff !  " 

"  But  if  you'd  seen  his  face  you'd  'a  known 
Hardeman  had  reached  his  limit,"  they  said. 
'-'  He  '11  meet  up  with  a  hungry  grizzly  the  day 
he  meets  that  there  han'vsome,  easy-going  Sheriff 
' — an'  don't  you  ferget  it." 


CHAPTER  11. 

THE  MOUNTAIN  CAMP. 

Over  the  rugged  heights  of  the  Olympic  range 
the  blood-red  sun  hung  for  a  moment  like  a  ball 
of  fire  in  the  shimmering  sky,  then  slowly  it 
dipped  behind  a  granite  peak  and  sank  majestic- 
ally toward  the  Pacific.  Ere  it  disappeared  from 
view  behind  the  range  it  cast  a  last  radiant  bril- 
liance over  the  waters  of  Admiralty  Inlet  and  the 
busy  hustling  city  of  Seattle,  built  terrace  upon 
terrace  upward  on  the  eastern  shore.  Then  it 
flared  its  parting  light  upon  the  far-famed  snow 
cap  of  Mount  Ranier,  leagues  beyond  and  to  the 
south. 

Northw-ard  the  Straits  of  Juan  de  Fuca  blazed 
for  a  moment  as  its  waters  seemingly  swallowed 
the  departing  light  that  all  day  long  had  danced 
upon  its  currents.  Then  British  Columbia  van- 
ished ;  and  a  distant  yellow  haze  proclaimed  that 
Victoria  was  alight  by  the  hand  of  man,  that 
darkness  was  to  be  met  by  the  light  of  electricity. 

Meanwhile  all  was  hushed  in  gloom  at  the 
base  of  the  Olympics. 

30 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  31 

Robbed  of  the  sun's  rays  suddenly  and  com- 
pletely, night  had  hastened  in  the  foothills,  while 
vet  the  distant  shores  and  the  great  snow- 
capped  cone  of  Ranier  shone  in  the  full  glow  of 
evening  light. 

The  forests  of  great  pine  and  fir  in  the  foot- 
hills were  blanketed  by  a  darkness  oppressive 
and  fearsome.  The  night  creatures  began  their 
cautious  movements,  and  here  and  there  a  pair 
of  yellow  eyes  pierced  the  gloom  and  then  dis- 
appeared at  the  sudden  creak  of  a  bough  or  the 
scurrying  of  some  four-footed  denizen.  Far 
aloft  the  swaying  of  the  tree-tops  sang  the 
nightlv  lullabv  of  the  forest. 

A  few  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  dis- 
tant waters  was  a  clearing  perched  on  the  roll- 
ing top  of  a  foothill,  and  in  this  clearing  were 
rude  log  cabins  and  ruder  men;  husky,  broad- 
shouldered  fellows,  whose  faces  shone  bv  the 
light  of  the  camp  fire  with  the  color  of  health 
and  the  tan  of  prolonged  exposure. 

Surrounded  by  the  dark  wall  of  huge  Oregon 
firs,  the  men  were  moving  briskly  about  the  clear- 
ing. Low  words  of  command  came  from  the  one 
nearest  the  camp  fire,  before  whom  a  line  of  his 
fellows  stood  waiting  for  a  moment  with  some- 
thing of  a  rough,  military  precision.  They  were 
all  armed — with  revolvers,  hanging.  Western 
fashion,  at  the  right  side,  and  the  short  rifle,  or 


32  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

carbine,  a  weapon  well  suited  to  these  woods, 
and  of  great  power  and  effectiveness. 

The  leader,  Captain  Butts,  he  of  the  camp  fire, 
was  expressing  himself  primitively  but  effect- 
ivelj^ 

"  If  you  boys  don't  bag  a  few  smugglers  this 
dark  night,  you're  a  string  of  fresh  water  salmon. 
Look  out  for  Chinks.  There's  sure  to  be  a  boat 
load  or  two  land  near  the  point  yonder.  See  you 
get  'em,  and  when  you  do  get  'em  bring  'em  into 
this  camp.  And  bring  in  their  opium  too. 
You  savvy?  " 

"  Sure  we  will,"  came  in  audible  chorus. 

"  I  guess  you  will,"  assented  the  burly  com- 
mander grimly.  "  Don't  any  o'  you  gents  bag  a 
smuggler  an'  tell  me  he  ain't  got  the  opium.  Be- 
cause if  that's  the  case,"  and  Butts  indulged  in  a 
pause  that  was  dark  with  emphasis,  ^'  I'll  know 
you  liave — see?  " 

Beneath  the  surface  good-nature  of  this  plain 
discourse  was  earnestness  enough  to  render  cer- 
tain of  the  men  before  him  uneasy.  They  were 
all  members  of  the  San  Juan  de  Fuca  patrol, 
whose  duty  was  to  catch  opium  smugglers  from 
British  territory,  also,  incidentally,  to  look  out 
for  Chinamen,  known  to  them  as  "'  Chinks,"  and 
prevent  them  from  stepping  across  by  the  boat- 
load into  Uncle  Sam's  country  from  British 
Columbia.    The  patiol  sincerely  tried  to  exclude 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  33 

the  Orientals,  but  occasionally  if  the  Chinaman 
happened  to  have  some  good  salable  opium  and  a 
pair  of  fast  running  legs  they  failed.  It  was 
peculiarly  difficult  to  hit  a  Chinaman  under  such 
circumstances,  especially  when  his  earnest  desire 
was  merely  to  become  a  good  '  Melican  man.' 
Butts  had  been  long  enough  at  the  station  to 
know  that  some  of  the  patrol  vv'ere  growing  rich, 
and  he  suspected,  wise  man,  that  a  portion  of  the 
opium  captured  was  never  reported  to  him,  but 
was  disposed  of  in  the  nearby  centres  of  civiliza- 
tion by  the  dishonest  members  of  the  patrol. 

The  men  disappeared  by  twos  and  threes 
through  the  woods  towards  the  shore.  Captain 
Butts  watched  them  go,  and  was  moved  to  mut- 
ter to  himself  half  admiringly !  "  The  finest  set 
of  sons  of  guns  I  ever  knew, — but  hang  'em  they 
like  to  graft  on  to  the  dope  fer  themselves  once 
in  a  while."  Then  he  turned  westward,  and 
alone  made  for  a  point  of  the  shore  some  dis- 
tance away. 

The  lantern  he  carried  was  unlighted.  After 
tramping  about  two  miles  down  a  trail  that  fol- 
lowed the  water's  edge  he  ensconced  himself  in 
the  darkness  behind  a  fallen  tree  not  far  from 
the  road  and  waited. 

A  storm  was  due  to  break  before  morning,  as 
was  foretold  by  the  low  moaning  voice  of  the 
wind,  sweeping  across  the  miles  of  billowing  tree 


34  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

crests  aloft.  A  likely  night  for  smugglers.  The 
patrol  would  make  great  efforts  he  knew.  As 
leader  he  was  ambitious  to  make  a  capture  alone 
if  possible.  It  was  easier  to  manage  those  rough 
fighting  fellows,  collected  from  the  four  corners 
of  the  country,  by  physical  strength  and  courage 
and  proved  resources,  than  by  any  amount  of 
words. 

Suddenly  as  the  troubled  moon  cast  a  dim 
shadow  for  a  moment  across  the  waters  he  raised 
himself  slightly  and  drew  his  carbine  towards 
him  with  a  swift  but  silent  motion.  The  moon 
disappeared  again,  but  the  muffled  sound  of  oars 
came  indistinctly  on  the  wund. 

"  A  lone  smuggler,"  he  breathed  grimly, 
"  Thinks  he's  got  a  nice  easy  job,  I  presume, 
landing  in  this  out  o'  the  way  little  cove.  Why, 
the  confidin'  cuss  must  think  this  patrol  is  a 
figger-head  to  the  State  o'  Washington.'' 

Slowly  he  crawled  on  hands  and  knees  to  the 
water's  edge,  and  concealed  behind  a  rock 
awaited  the  landing.  In  a  moment  the  boat 
rushed  upon  the  pebbles  and  a  man  sprang 
ashore.  In  the  dim  light  Butts  saw  a  six-footer 
with  athletic  frame  and  body,  and  square,  strong 
face.  He  saw  too  that  the  stranger  was  heavily 
armed. 

The  size  and  armament  of  the  man  however 


THE  SIIElilFF  OF  WASCO.  35 

had  no  great  effect  upon  the  leader  of  the  patrol. 
He  was  used  to  all  kinds  of  men  and  guns. 

The  stranger  advanced.  That  instant  Butts 
leveled  his  carbine,  remarking  in  a  voice  that 
could  scarcely  be  heard  ten  feet  off.  ^'  Hands  up, 
stranger — no  monkey  business." 

It  had  a  most  wonderful  effect  upon  the  un- 
known. With  incredible  swiftness  he  whirled, 
ducked  low,  and  like  a  fiend  launched  himself 
upon  Butts  below  his  leveled  gun. 

Never  before  in  those  parts  had  a  smuggler 
failed  to  obey  the  command  of  an  armed  patrol- 
man, but  this  time  it  was  different.  Butts  had 
no  time  to  pull  trigger  or  to  reach  for  revolver 
before  he  found  himself  in  the  grasp  of  arms 
that  were  crushing  the  life  out  of  him.  He 
fought  back  with  vicious  swings  and  smashing 
blows,  but  he  was  borne  heavily  to  the  ground. 

He  realized  then  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of 
a  superior,  of  one  who  was  bent  on  murder  rather 
than  capture,  and  who  would  finish  him  in  short 
order.  Such  strength  he  had  never  encountered 
in  human  being,  so  he  roared  for  help  with  fierce 
reverberating  cries  that  echoed  and  reechoed 
along  the  shores  and  into  the  woods;  at  the  same 
time  rolling  over  and  over  with  his  silent  adver- 
sary, fighting  with  the  desperation  of  despair. 
He  seized  the  man's  neck  and  closed  with  a  grip 
of  iron,  but  he  was  shaken  loose. 


m  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

Then  he  staggered  to  his  feet,  and  the  two 
swayed  across  the  beach  in  deadly  combat  at 
close  quarters.  Suddenly  Butts  felt  a  crashing 
blow  on  the  head.  He  trembled,  and  the  light  of 
the  night  world  went  out  in  overwhelming  pain, 
and  in  a  cloud  of  blackness. 

Connor  and  the  Italian,  Miguel,  both  members 
of  the  patrol,  who  were  stalking  along  the  road 
by  the  Straits,  heard  the  cries  of  their  captain 
from  afar  and  hastened  with  all  speed  towards 
the  scene. 

They  arrived  just  as  the  desperate  fight  was 
over.  Lighting  their  small  hand  lanterns  they 
beheld  their  chief  lying  unconscious  on  the  beach, 
face  upward,  and  showing  evidence  of  severe 
punishment.  In  the  boat  there  was  nothing. 
The  unknown  had  either  escaped  with  his  load, 
or,  as  Miguel  suggested,  the  whole  affair  looked 
so  like  the  flight  of  a  desperado  that  there  was 
probably  no  load  of  any  kind. 

"  That  man  killa  anybody.  He  not  smuggle; 
he  one  them  bada  men.  Gotta  way.  Butts  mada 
mistaka.'' 

Miguel  had  reference  to  the  rather  numerous 
outlaws  who  often  made  for  the  Olympic  range 
where  the  mountain  fastnesses  afforded  secure 
retreat,  and  where  the  abundance  of  wild  game 
insured  a  plenty  of  food. 

The   two   carried   their   chief   with    difficulty 


THE  SHERIFF  OF    WASJC.  3' 


through  the  woods.  Long  before  arriYing  at  the 
clearing  they  were  joined  by  others  of  the  patrol, 
who  came  crashing  through  the  woods  by  all  the 
known  short  cuts  in  answer  to  the  signals  of 
distress.  With  the  powerful  strength  of  woods- 
men they  rushed  the  unconscious  man  to  the 
glare  of  the  camp  fire  and  ministered  to  his  needs 
in  a  rough  but  earnest  manner. 

Disagreements  of  daily  life,  petty  jealousies 
and  personal  spites  were  lost  in  the  presence  of 
severe  and  dire  necessity.  One  and  all  they  for- 
got Butts'  severity.  He  was  their  chief,  their 
leader,  although  a  well-nigh  dead  one,  and  with 
one  accord  they  fell  to  and  did  what  experience 
had  taught  them  was  proper  under  the  circum- 
tances. 

Without  further  ceremony  they  threw  a  bucket 
of  water  over  his  head,  and  Miguel  placed  a 
square  of  salt  pork  on  the  back  of  his  neck,  while 
Connor  slapped  his  soles  with  the  handle  of  an 
ax. 

"  He's  most  gone  fer  sure,"  volunteered  Jenks 
of  the  day  patrol. 

"  He's  not  gone,"  answered  Connor,  '^  he's  sim- 
ply overcome  by  the  suddenness.  We  could  hear 
him  yelling  a  mile  off;  it  was  an  awful  fight." 

"  It  sounda  lika  hella,"  acquiesced  Miguel. 

Butts  opened  his  eyes  and  gazed  around  at 


38  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

the  men,  who  welcomed  him  back  to  life  with 
joyful  exclamations. 

"  Where's  the  opium,"  asked  the  injured  man 
suddenl}'. 

"  Wasn't  no  opium,"  answered  Connor,  "  You 
went  up  against  a  desperado,  and  not  a  smug- 
gler/' 

Butts  sat  up.  "  See  here,  don't  you  give  me 
any  bluff.    Who  found,  me?  " 

"  Me  and  the  Italian,"  nodded  Connor. 

"  Produce  the  drug." 

"  None  to  produce,"  laughed  Connor. 

The  dazed  Butts  rose,  seizing  the  ax-handle, 
and  felled  first  Connor  and  then  Miguel.  Fight 
gleamed  from  his  pale  and  ghastly  face  as  he 
lunged  menacingly  toward  the  rest,  but  they 
overpowered  him  and  bore  him,  limp  as  a  rag, 
into  the  cabin  to  his  bunk. 

Connor  sat  up  and  washed  his  bleeding  head 
without  apparent  malice. 

"  The  boss  thinks  we're  stealing  opium  all  the 
while,"  he  remarked  with  a  sickly  smile.  "  He 
won't  stand  fer  any  more  graft,  boys; "  and  they 
all  grinned  half  guiltily  at  the  speaker.  Miguel 
voiced  the  general  sentiment  as  he  seized  the 
salt  pork  and  clapped  it  on  to  his  aching  head, 
and  rolling  over  on  the  ground  remarked  dis- 
gustedly : 

*^  Butts  he  damma  bada  proposition." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  39 

The  day  shift,  now  thoroughly  awake,  joined 
the  night  squad  around  the  fire  and  fell  to  dis- 
cussing the  mystery  of  the  assault.  That  their 
chief  was  no  infant  in  strength  they  could  tes- 
tify; the  more  therefore  they  admired  the  awful 
prowess  of  his  assailant.  They  made  known  in 
language  strong  and  emphatic  their  earnest  de- 
sire to  meet  with  him. 

Tom  Jones,  a  loose-limbed,  heavy  footed  giant 
who  lay  sprawled  on  his  belly,  amusing  himself 
throwing  twigs  in  the  fire  while  the  others 
talked,  rose  up  on  one  elbow  and  doubted  it  in  a 
tremendously  earnest  bass  voice. 

"  You  fellows  'r  all  blowin'  'bout  what  you'd 
be  liable  to  do  if  you  flopped  up  against  that 
gentleman  o'  the  row  boat.  You've  all  got 
dreams,  I  say." 

''  Dreams,"  they  echoed,  "  What  you  mean  I 
Dreams?  " 

''  Yah — dreams.  Think  you'd  do  stunts,  don't 
you?  You's  sick  in  yer  upper  stories.  That 
fellow  is  no  smuggler.  Y^ou  know  that.  Smug- 
glers don't  put  up  a  fight ;  they  divide  the  opium. 
Now  this  fellow  was  business  from  start  to  fin- 
ish.   He  was  out  fer  trouble." 

At  this  moment  a  Chinaman,  one  of  the  cooks, 
came  softly  from  the  cabin  where  Butts  was 
being  cared  for,  and  squatted  near  the  circle. 
He  had  a  peculiar  expression  on  his  tanned  Ce- 


40  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

lestial  face,  and  those  around  the  fire  divined  in 
an  instant  that  he  had  important  news,  but  was 
waiting  to  be  asked. 

Jones  sat  up  and  fumbled  with  his  carbine, 
then  looking  across  the  fire  remarked  in  a  long 
drawl : 

"  If  you  silent  Mongolian  don't  break  yer  si- 
lence pretty  doggone  quick  I'll  pinkey  yer 
stomach  with  a  piece  o'  lead  outer  this  gun." 

Yang  Foo,  for  such  was  the  cook's  name, 
took  a  long  breath,  and  instinctively  slid  his 
hand  over  his  stomach,  looking  appealingly  and 
beseechingly  at  the  others.  He  got  no  encour- 
agement, however;  and  a  second  speaker  with 
mock  seriousness  suggested  that  they  all  "  pin- 
key  "  some  lead  into  his  stomach. 

The  Oriental  winced  and  then  decided  to  take 
chances.  "  You  plinkee  lead  in  my  tlummick 
you  gettee  onlee  lice." 

"  Lice  in  his  stomach,"  guffaw^ed  a  new  mem- 
ber of  the  squad. 

"  Lice  nothing.  He's  a  Chink  an'  queer  on  his 
letters.     He  means  rice,"  explained  Jones. 

"  Yess,"  lisped  Yang  Foo,  ''-  no  goodee  plinkee 
me." 

"  That's  right,"  they  bawled  in  chorus.  "  Lead 
wouldn't  hurt  such  an  innocent  as  you,  you  pig- 
tailed  secret  bearer.  Out  with  it  Yang — 
Quick!  !" 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO  41 

Yang  looked  solemn,  and  swaying  his  body 
sideways',  began  in  a  sing-song  voice: 

^^  Buttsee  say  he  got  lickee  bly  a  gleat  tallee 
'Melican  man.  Yang  Foo  was  lookee  lound  in 
Seattle  las'  Monday,  an'  Seattle  was  lookee 
lound  findee  big  'wayman,  namee  Lardyman. 
He  lunnee  'way  flom  Olegon." 

The  men  listened  attentively  to  the  China- 
man's sing-song  statement,  and  when  it  Tvas  fin- 
ished there  was  a  thoughtful  silence,  broken  by 
Jenks,  one  of  the  younger  fellows. 

"  I'm  from  Oregon,  boys,  as  you  know.  The 
Chink  says  Seattle  was  looking  'round  for  a 
highwayman  by  the  name  of  Lardyman,  escaped 
from  Oregon.  He  means  the  biggest  desperado 
of  the  Northwest — Hardeman." 

Every  man  pulled  himself  to  a  sitting  pos- 
ture, and  instinctively  felt  for  his  small  arms. 
They  knew  the  import  of  that  statement;  for 
the  name  was  familiar  to  all  of  them,  and  the 
deeds  perpetrated  by  this  man  were  passed  from 
camp  to  camp  throughout  both  Oregon  and 
Washington. 

Then  Yang  Foo  commenced  again,  swaying 
his  body  in  rhythmic  accord  to  his  words. 

"  Lardyman  lunne  'way  in  boatee,  'Melican 
man  in  Seattle  say." 

"  Ean  away  in  a  boat,  did  he?  He's  the  man 
that  got  Butts,  boys,"  said  Jones  with  convic- 


42  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

tion.  "  Better  keep  your  eyes  peeled  now. 
There'll  be  something  doing  round  here  before 
long." 

The  fitful  moon  had  long  since  gone  in.  The 
sky  above  the  clearing  was  black  with  banked 
clouds,  and  the  roar  of  the  wind  in  the  tree- 
tops  was  like  the  rushing  of  a  torrent.  Vivid 
flashes  of  lightning  burst  forth,  paling  the  camp- 
fire  and  lighting  up,  with  unearthly  distinct- 
ness, the  jagged  peaks  around;  and  then  down 
came  the  rain,  at  first  in  wind  driven  drops, 
then  in  sheets  that  obscured  all  vision  and 
speedily  extinguished  the  fire,  driving  the  men 
to  the  shelter  of  the  cabin. 

The  captain,  awakened  by  the  uproar,  was 
quickly  made  to  understand  the  probable  iden- 
tity of  the  lone  smuggler  whose  attempted  ar- 
rest had  been  followed  by  such  unexpected  and 
painful  results.  The  name  of  Hardeman  was 
balm  to  Butts'  pride  in  himself.  Plainly  it  had 
re-established  his  wounded  credit  with  the  patrol- 
men. Swinging  his  legs  sullenly  out  of  the  bunk 
"The  deuce — where's  that  Chink?"  he  de- 
manded fiercely. 

Yang  Foo,  half  intimidated  by  his  own  sud- 
den importance,  repeated  his  sing-song  recital. 

"  Hardeman,  eh — ?  "  and  the  leader  mouthed 
the  name  in  a  sort  of  savage  amiability;  then  he 
whirled  unsteadily  on  the  young  man  from  Ore- 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  43 

gon.     "  Ever  see  that  fellow,  Jenks.     What's  he 
like?  " 

''  Seen  him  once  in  Wasco  county,  where  I 
come  from,"  said  Jenks.  "  He's  tall,  and  fine- 
limbed.  Chief.  Big,  six  foot  two  and  maybe 
more,  and  walks  sorter— wa'll,  sorter  elegant  an' 
almighty.  He's  got  a  fine  face,  and  he's  quick 
enough  to  knock  the  claws  off  a  wild  cat.  You'd 
reckon  he  was  a  mighty  interestin'  acquaintance 
if  you  didn't  know  him.  But  he's  the  slickest 
animal  this  side  of  the  Rockies— especially  wath 
the  women." 

The  torches  lit  up  the  circle  of  shrewd  rugged 
faces,  all  deeply  intent  on  this  description  of 
the  great  outlaw  w^ho  had  honored  the  wilds  of 
the  Olympics  with  his  presence.  Commander 
Butts  banged  his  fist  against  his  open  palm,  cry- 
ing vehemently,  "  We'll  drive  the  slick  cuss  back 
to  Oregon. — Or  we'll  string  him  up  in  these 
woods,  eh,  boys?  " 

"  Naw,"  interrupted  Jenks  enigmatically, 
'-  you  won't  drive  him  back  to  Oregon." 

"We  won't?  Why  not?"  they  cried,  w^heel- 
ing  on  him. 

"  Because  he's  afraid.     That's  w^hy.'^ 

"Afraid?    Hardeman  afraid  of  Oregon?" 

"Nope.  He  ain't  afraid  of  Oregon,  or  any 
other  state  I've  heard  tell  of.  He's  afraid  of 
just  one  man  in  Oregon  though." 


44  THE  SHERIFF  OF   WAS 00. 

"  Who  in  thunder — ?  "  they  inquired  half  sar- 
castically. 

"  The  Sheriff  of  Wasco." 

The  captain's  face  gathered  into  a  thoughtful 
frown.  ^'  I've  heard  of  that  son  of  a  gun.  He's 
more  talked  of  than  the  devil  himself  in  Wasco. 
Keg'ler ,  they  say  he  is." 

^'  That  what  they  say?  Well  noiv — "  and 
Jenks  swallowed  a  sound  like  a  delighted 
chuckle.  ^'  I'm  from  Wasco  myself,"  he  said 
proudly ;  ^'  and  I've  heard  by  letter  that  the 
Sheriff  is  after  Hardeman.  Coming  into  Wash- 
ington, acting  under  special  papers.  I'll  bet  he's 
on  the  fugitive's  trail  now,  an'  that's  what  made 
that  outlaw  so  darned  hurried.  Turr'ble  se- 
rious cuss,  the  Sheriff  is,  when  he  gets  down  to 
business " 

A  knocking  at  the  cabin  door  interrupted 
Jenk's  eulogy,  and  two  Indians  stalked  majes- 
tically in  from  the  storm,  the  older  dressed  as  a 
chief  and  still  a  young  man,  the  other  a  hand- 
some youth  in  his  teens,  evidently  his  son. 

"  How,  Chief  Talabam.  What  brings  you 
here  to-night — jou  and  Chidwan?"  queried  the 
captain. 

"  Chidwan  heard  the  fight,  and  he  told  his 
Chief  father.  Talabam  comes  as  the  white  man's 
friend  to  see  Chief  Butts.  Chidwan  said  the 
Chief  was  hit  in  the  head.'' 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  ^VASCO.  45 

The  patrolmen  grinned,  and  the  Indian's  face 
lit  with  the  suspicion  of  a  grim  smile. 

"  Hit  all  over,  Talabam,-'  muttered  Butts  dis- 
gustedly. "  It  was  Hardeman  who  did  it — the 
great  outlaw  from  Wasco." 

"  Wasco/'  said  the  Indian  with  interest.  ^^  In 
Wasco  are  many  bad  men.  Do  the  white  brothers 
know  that  Talabam,  Chief  of  the  Yakimas,  lived 
in  Wasco  when  he  was  a  small  brave — smaller 
than  Chidwan?    Talabam  knows  of  Wasco." 

The  Indian  was  beseiged  with  questions  at 
once,  but  he  knew  nothing  much  of  recent  do- 
ings in  Oregon.  Listening  attentively  to  the  dis- 
cussion he  seated  himself,  shaking  his  head 
grimly. 

"  If  from  Wasco  is  coming  a  brave  who  seeks 
this  bad  man,  and  if  this  brave  needs  a  swift 
foot  and  a  strong  eye  to  help  him,  send  to  Chief 
Talabam,  for  the  Chief  of  the  Yakimas  has  many 
braves,  and  the  red  man  likes  not  the  bad  white 
man." 

"  We  will,"  echoed  the  men  heartily.  "  We'll 
send  the  new  Sheriff  of  Wasco — he's  coming  him- 
self." 

The  eyes  of  the  Indian  glittered,  and  his  face 
turned  to  a  sphinx-like  quiet.  They  all  knew 
him  and  understood  that  something  had  come 
suddenly  to  him.  No  use  asking  what — so  they 
waited.    After  a  long  pause  Talabam  arose;  all 


46  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

the  dignity  of  the  Chief  was  in  him ;  all  the  grace 
and  force  of  his  aristocratic  tribe  was  his. 

"  Send  the  new  Sheriff  to  the  Chief  of  the 
Yakimas.  The  new  man  hunter  is  young  as  the 
half  grown  tree.  He  is  quick  as  a  flash  from  the 
clouds,  and  strong  as  the  great  fir;  and  his  heart 
is  the  heart  of  a  great  white  man.  Talabam  says 
this — for  Talabam  has  heard  and  knows."  There 
was  a  curious  ring  in  the  Indian's  voice,  a  some- 
thing that  betokened  deeper  things  unexplained. 

"  Hooray  for  the  Chief  I  '^  yelled  Jenks.  "  Say 
Tally,  you're  a  dead  game  sport,  if  you  do  look 
like  the  top  of  a  one  cent  piece." 

The  chief  grinned  approvingly.  "  Talabam 
speaks  not  of  one  cent  piece.  When  he  speaks  he 
speaks  in  gold." 

The  men  laughed.  It  was  well  known  that  the 
chief  w^as  an  Indian  Croesus.  As  he  spoke  he 
drew  from  his  belt  a  handful  of  nuggets. 

"  These  are  Talabam's  words,"  he  said,  "  will 
the  white  brothers  play  poker? '' 

They  played  until  dawn  and  until  there  was 
nothing  more  to  bet  save  their  clothes  and  arms ; 
then  Talabam  took  his  departure,  as  usual,  laden 
with  coin. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE    NEW    BOSS. 


Far  out  beyond  the  western  end  of  the  moun- 
tain chain,  on  a  rocky  shore  beside  the  great  Pa- 
cific, a  lone  mining  camp  lay  as  though  it  had 
been  dropped  from  the  clouds. 

Its  natural  environments  were  extremely  beau- 
tiful— blue  mountains  rising  solemnly  behind,  a 
sky  of  sapphire  blue  overhead  in  which  the  white 
sun  of  midsummer  burned  fiercely,  and  at  its  feet 
the  cool  blue  waters  of  the  broad  Pacific.  Beauty, 
however,  was  not  a  matter  of  much  considera- 
tion to  the  camp.  It  was  there  for  business ;  and 
to  that  primary  cause  and  aim  of  its  existence 
it  attended  with  the  usual  ugly,  self-absorbed, 
vehement  manner  of  mining  camps. 

It  was  too  small  to  have  attractions  of  its 
ov/n,  or  to  evolve  them  in  any  great  degree ;  and  it 
was  too  far  from  the  large  centres  of  life  to 
make  it  a  desirable  home  for  pleasure  seekers. 
The  men  who  came  there  came  for  strict  busi- 
ness, though  this  might  happen  to  be  of  different 
kinds,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  men.    The 

47 


48  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

officials  of  the  mine,  the  Boss  and  his  assist- 
ants, were  always  armed,  by  day  and  night;  the 
miners  never;  though  some  of  them  had  the 
air  of  men  who  would  draw  weapon  on  slight 
provocation.  Questions  about  the  past  were 
usually  unpopular  among  them,  and  were  seldom 
asked;  it  was  enough  that  they  were  able  to 
work,  for  the  Boss  was  the  kind  of  man  who 
saw  to  it  that  they  fulfilled  that  requirement. 

In  the  usual  unobtrusive  way  of  new-comers  to 
that  camp,  a  stranger  appeared  from  nowhere 
one  day,  and  asked  for  work. 

The  Boss,  who  was  a  judge  of  men,  measured 
him  for  a  second  or  two  with  a  critical  eye.  The 
stranger  was  young,  but  there  was  something  in 
his  adventurous  dark  face,  in  the  sleeping  force 
of  his  powerful  body,  that  indicated  a  wide  ex- 
perience not  common  to  youth.  His  somewhat 
forced  servility  was  of  the  fierce  slinking  kind  a 
wolf  might  wear  when  anxious  for  cover. 

"  -Fraid  we  ain't  got  nothing  fancy  enough  fer 
your  taste,  stranger,''  grimly  suggested  the  Boss. 
"  What  sorter  job  d'you  want?  " 

"  The  one  that  draws  the  biggest  pay,"  said  the 
other  with  irrepressible  insolence. 

"  Ye  don't  get  it.  Not  while  I'm  on  the  pay 
roll." 

"  I'd  just  as  soon  wait.  What's  the  job  of  Boss 
to  these  here  diggin's  worth? "     There  was  a 


THE  8HEEIFF  OF  WASCO.  49 

wickedly  braggart  curl  on  the  stranger's  mouth, 
and  the  eyes  of  the  man  in  authority  ran  him 
over  a  second  time  even  more  discerningly.  The 
Boss  was  a  strong  man  himself;  and  he  read  an 
iron  character  in  this  one  who  came  begging  for 
work  with  one  hand  hooked  in  his  belt  just  above 
his  blue  gleaming  weapon.  Assurance  and  a 
fierce  air  of  accustomed  dominance  over  men  gave 
the  lie  to  his  smirking  humility,  no  less  surely 
than  did  his  insolent  tongue.  But  the  Boss 
needed  just  such  fellows  in  his  business — as  allies 
of  his  own  authority. 

"  You  give  up  yer  gun  when  you  come  to  work 
in  these  diggin's,  stranger." 

^*  I  do — eh?  Say,  you  surprise  me.  Which 
end  '11  you  take?  " 

The  applicant  for  work  stood  with  the  Colt 
poised  in  his  hand,  and  his  voice  was  a  wonder 
for  its  steely,  treacherous  smoothness.  Even  the 
iron-nerved  Boss  inadvertently  stepped  back  a 
pace. 

"  Ye'U  do/'  he  laughed  gruffly.  "  I'll  make  you 
foreman — an'  keep  yer  gun,  you  devil.  I'd 
oughter  throw  you  over  the  ledge  instead.  What 
d'ye  call  yerself  ?  " 

The  newly-employed  slipped  back  his  weapon 
with  a  hypocritical  leer  of  gratitude  and  a  certain 
virile  grace  born  of  great  strength.  "  You  can 
call  me  Scott.    I  reckon  I'll  remember  to  answer 


50  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

to  that.  An'  any  time  you  want  to  try  throwin' 
me  over  the  ledge — don't  you  hesitate,  Boss.  I'm 
as  harmless  as  a  spring  chicken,  I  am,"  he  re- 
sponded with  an  amiable  swagger. 

Whatever  the  new  foreman  knew  or  did  not 
know  concerning  mining,  it  rapidly  developed 
that  in  handling  men  he  was  an  expert  trained  by 
some  past  experience.  The  hardiest  characters 
in  the  mine,  drawn  thither  by  its  retirement  from 
civilization  and  law,  flinched  when  his  fierce  eye 
rested  on  them.  The  Boss  was  the  only  law  for 
the  mining  camp.  But  within  three  days  the  new 
foreman  had  divided  the  prerogative  with  him, 
and  killed  a  miner  on  sight  for  a  moment's  in- 
subordination. The  irregularity  was  necessarily 
winked  at,  however.  The  foreman  was  start- 
lingly  well  fitted  for  his  work,  and  it  was  mani- 
festly the  least  difficult  course  with  a  man  of  his 
impressive  attainments. 

On  the  fifth  day  he  was  called  to  a  consultation 
by  his  superior. 

"  Comp'ny's  comin' :  the  inspector  an'  one  o' 
the  mine  owners,  Mr.  John  Thorn  from  Seattle. 
He's  bringin'  his  daughter  along.  She's  a  real 
refined  lady,  she  is;  the  sort  this  crowd  don't 
see  once  in  a  thousand  years,  so  hurry  up  an' 
have  everythin'  slick.  An'  say — don't  you  get  too 
doggone  playful  with  that  there  gun  o'  yours. 
You'll  make  a  scandal  first  thing,  you  devil," 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCG.  51 

Under  the  able  persuasion  of  the  foreman 
things  were  slick  in  an  astonishingly  short  space. 
He  had  his  own  curiosity  to  see  the  lady,  a  curi- 
osity which  forced  immurement  with  his  own 
sex  had  keenly  whetted,  and  sent  him  about  his 
duties  with  strong  speculation  in  his  bold  eyes. 
It  happened,  however,  that  long  before  she  came 
the  dense  fog  of  the  Pacific  coast  had  fallen  on 
the  place,  and  threatened  to  balk  him  of  his  de- 
sire. 

Circumstances  were  unkind  to  him.  The  mo- 
ment of  her  arrival  found  him  detained  at  the 
further  end  of  the  camp.  Hearing  the  clatter  of 
hoofs  and  the  stentorian  voice  of  the  Boss  shout- 
ing a  hasty  command,  he  made  for  the  place  with 
all  the  speed  he  dare  muster  without  attracting 
unwelcome  notice.  But  outside  the  office  he 
found  only  three  horses,  blanketed  in  the  fog. 
The  girl  had  vanished  within,  leaving  behind  her 
on  the  thick  atmosphere  the  trail  of  a  sweet  fem- 
inine presence,  that  floated,  perfume  like,  over  the 
camp's  crude,  rough  edged  masculinity.  Some 
speech  of  her  escorts'  made  her  laugh,  and  the 
silvery  notes  of  her  voice  struck  the  auditory 
nerve  of  the  foreman  with  a  light  pleasant  shock, 
and  traveling  thence  to  his  brain  diffused  an 
agreeable  glow  throughout  his  strenuous  evil 
body.  Tingling  in  every  nerve  and  muscle  with 
desire  to  see  her,  he  prowled  about  the  vicinity 


52  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

of  the  building,  licking  his  lips  occasionally  in 
the  excitement  of  delayed  anticipation. 

Secure  in  the  lighted  office  with  her  father  and 
his  armed  employees,  she  knew  no  more  of  his 
wolfish  existence  than  of  his  burning  curiosity 
concerning  her,  and  would  have  scorned  him 
daintily  if  she  had. 

Lunch  was  served  to  the  party  in  the  office,  so 
he  had  to  wait  a  long  time.    But  he  was  patient. 

To  take  advantage  of  his  position  as  foreman, 
and  manufacture  an  errand  which  would  bring 
him  into  her  presence,  was  an  expedient  he 
thought  of  and  dismissed.  Not  from  lack  of  au- 
dacity, but  from  constitutional  wariness,  which 
was  one  of  his  characteristics.  Already  he  had 
a  half-formed  purpose  in  mind,  which  sooner  or 
later  he  might  see  fit  to  execute,  and  this  made  it 
advisable  that  he  should  curb  his  vehemence  and 
keep  himself  in  the  background. 

It  was  this  consideration  which  still  held  him 
bound  and  harmless  when  she  came  out  again  at 
last,  her  three  escorts  about  her.  In  the  doorway 
she  paused  for  a  moment  in  an  endeavor  to  pierce 
the  fog  bank,  and  from  w^here  he  stood  half  hid- 
den he  had  a  dim  but  most  satisfying  impression 
of  a  rather  tail  girl,  with  wonderful  blue  eyes  and 
dark  hair,  and  of  a  beauty  that  sent  his  v/icked 
soul  half  mad.  Her  clear  round  voice  flicked  his 
throbbing  senses  anew  as  she  passed  him  without 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  53 

a  glance,  without  even  knowing  it  was  a  man  who 
stood  there  half  revealed  in  the  murk.  Again  in 
her  wake  floated  that  ineffable,  subtle  perfume — 
as  of  a  thousand  woodland  flowers;  and  as  the 
faint  whiff  of  it  stole  about  his  nostrils  and 
reached  his  brain  it  well  nigh  unseated  the  iron 
caution  that  reigned  there,  holding  sway  over  all 
his  instincts.  His  arteries  pounding  tumult- 
uously  in  his  skull,  he  reached  with  a  lightning 
swift,  stealthy  motion  sidewise,  and  stood  there 
poised,  ready  for  instant  murder,  yet  deterred 
still  by  judgment.  Then,  on  second  thought,  and 
with  a  fierce  gesture,  he  slipped  back  the  pistol 
and  grunted  in  scorn  of  his  own  haste.  Of  what 
use  was  it?  There  was  plenty  of  time, — days, 
weeks,  months,  if  he  preferred.  Time  was  his 
servant.  Was  he  a  half-grown  puppy  to  swallow 
his  pleasure  thus  at  one  gulp. 

He  heard  her  laughing  voice  declaring  as  she 
rose  lio'htlv  to  her  saddle :  '''  Come  father,  now 
we're  off  for  Hilltown  and  our  little  cabin  in  the 
woods.  Doesn't  that  make  you  happy?  Father 
tried  to  leave  me  at  home  when  he  came  here,  you 
see,  but  he  wasn't  clever  enough,"  she  explained 
with  sweet-voiced  wilfulness.  '"  I  love  this  beauti- 
ful country.  I  love  the  bigness  and  wildness  of 
it.  And  as  for  the  men — I'm  sure  the  most  of 
them  are  good,  are  they  not?"  she  inquired  in 
happy  sincerity  of  the  grim-faced  Boss. 


64  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

"  Sure  they  are.  I'd  like  to  see  any  of  'em  mis- 
behavin'  himself  in  presence  of  a  lady,"  said  the 
Boss  with  energy. 

"  You'd  be  quite  safe  anyway,  whatever  the 
circumstances,"  said  the  charmed  inspector, 
touching  his  big  Colt. 

She  laughed  sweetly  at  them  both.  "  Thanks ! 
You  look  dreadfully  fierce  with  those  huge  re- 
volvers.   You  ought  to  see  father  with  one." 

^'  Myra!^'  objected  that  stout,  amiable  gentle- 
man. 

"  Oh  yes,  father.  I've  seen  you,  so  I  know  all 
about  it,"  she  protested.  "  I  like  a  little  bit  of 
danger.  It  makes  things  interesting — as  long 
as  you  escape,  of  course — "  the  pleasant  sound  of 
her  voice  faded  amid  the  clatter  of  hoof  beats; 
the  three  visitors  rode  off,  and  the  fog-bound  min- 
ing camp  seemed  lonelier  and  drearier  for  the 
silence. 

Full  of  his  dark,  over-heated  thoughts  the  fore- 
man slunk  away  unnoticed  to  his  duties. 

A  second  visit  from  the  inspector  was  not  to 
be  looked  for  in  less  than  a  month,  so  that  even- 
ing the  Boss  prepared  to  relax  somewhat  from  the 
cares  of  his  office.  He  was  a  stern,  strong  man 
with  only  one  weakness — whisky;  which  he  in- 
dulged at  favorable  moments  such  as  this.  To- 
day especially,  with  his  new  foreman  in  charge, 
he  had  no  fear  that  discipline  would  suffer. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  55 

He  transferred  his  responsibilities  without  a 
doubt;  and  so  he  knew  nothing  of  it  when  the  in- 
spector, an  over-zealous  man,  returned  that  same 
night  to  camp  after  seeing  Mr.  Thorn  and  his 
daughter  to  the  woodman's  cabin,  some  miles 
away,  where  they  were  to  spend  the  night.  Long 
ere  the  Boss  awoke  in  the  morning  the  inspector 
had  departed  again.  But  the  faithful  foreman 
was  there,  watching  his  awakening  superior  with 
a  sardonic  grin,  the  last  smirk  of  his  counterfeit 
humility  replaced  by  open  insolence. 

"  What  are  you  doin'  here?  "  demanded  the 
Boss  sharply,  as  he  realized  it. 

The  foreman  chuckled  aloud  in  enjoyment. 

"  Say,  don't  you  speak  to  me  like  that.  I'm 
liable  to  blow  yer  brains  out.  I'm  waitin'  fer 
you  to  wake  up,  you  drunken  loafer.  I'm  the 
Boss  now — an'  you're  nobody.     Read  that." 

"  That "  was  a  letter  of  dismissal  from  the  in- 
spector, who  also  informed  the  deposed  man 
that  Mr.  Scott,  his  efficient  foreman,  had  been 
promoted  to  the  place. 

The  sobered  Boss  looked  up,  and  beholding 
that  worthy  grinning  in  diabolic  entertainment, 
reached  with  a  growl  of  rage  for  his  gun.  The 
same  instant  there  was  a  flash,  his  arm  dropped 
helplessly  against  his  side  with  the  bone  splin- 
tered, and  the  Colt  flew  from  his  benumbed  fin- 
gers— but    his    foreman    stood    there    unmoved. 


66  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

weapon  in  hand,  his  smile  only  a  trifle  uglier  and 
more  diabolic. 

''  You  git,'^  said  he  without  preface. — "  Git !  " 
and  at  the  smooth,  staccato  terror  of  his  voice  a 
chill  fell  on  the  old  Boss. 

"  I'm  the  New  Boss.  I'll  give  you  ten  minutes 
to  clear  out.  Don't  fool.  I  ain't  usually  so  pa- 
tient," he  added,  with  a  suave  fiendish  sort  of 
toleration. 

''  You  mean  you'll  murder  me,  you  devil," 
breathed  the  elder  man. 

The  answer  was  an  eloquent  chuckle,  as  the 
New  Boss  hooked  one  leg  over  a  chair  and  sat 
down  facing  his  former  chief  across  its  back.  His 
swagger  was  that  of  a  man  who  knows  the  win- 
ning cards  are  his. 

"  You  just  keep  on  waitin'  an'  you'll  get  my 
meanin'.  I've  given  you  ten  minutes  to  get  your 
arm  bandaged. — Savvy?  Time's  flyin';  but  if 
you  ain't  in  a  hurry  I  certainly  ain't,"  said  the 
slow,  wickedly  musical  voice. 

There  ensued  a  final  deadly  pause  of  several 
seconds,  while  the  deposed  Boss  looked  in  his  fore- 
man's eyes  and  saw  the  devil  lurking  there.  He 
perceived  that  there  was  no  limit  to  that  devil's 
potentialities.  And  he  noted  with  renewed  and 
startled  appreciation  the  long  sinewy  body, 
gracefully  inert,  but  formidable  in  its  dumb 
threat  of  strength.     He  w^ondered  he  had  not 


THE  &UEUIFF  OF  WASCO.  57 

foreseen  this  danger.  Then,  time  being  precious, 
he  went  slowly  out  backwards,  his  face  towards 
the  villainous  figure  in  the  chair,  and  the  menac- 
ing revolver  point, — and  sought  the  necessary  aid 
of  the  miners  who  had  gathered  without.  Ten 
minutes  later  he  was  gone;  and  the  men,  with 
eyes  of  curious,  awed  expectancy,  awaited  the 
orders  of  the  New  Boss.  With  them  it  was 
clearly  a  case  of  "  The  King  is  dead.  Long  live 
the  King.'' 

Since  they  had  already  been  granted  a  taste  of 
his  quality  as  foreman  and  found  it  none  too 
promising,  they  waited  in  proper  trepidation  to 
see  what  manner  of  Boss  he  should  prove  himself 
to  be.  The  next  few  days  left  room  for  consider- 
able speculation.  To  their  amazement  and  great 
joy  he  seemed  lenient.  So  much  so  indeed,  that 
they  doubted  whether  his  strange  gentleness, 
which  yet  was  not  so  reassuring  to  them  as  it 
might  have  been,  was  due  to  a  sudden  weakening 
on  his  part,  or  only  to  preoccupation  with  some 
other  affair,  which  was  evidently  engrossing  his 
attention.  His  interest  in  the  mine  was  the 
slightest,  and  he  went  about  with  an  intent  in- 
trospective look  on  his  swarthy  face,  apparently 
oblivious  of  their  doings. 

The  real  cause  of  this  abstracted  air  was  that 
before  his  mind's  eye  there  flitted  constantly  the 
image  of  a  blue-eyed,  dark-haired  woman,  as  far 


58  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

above  him  as  the  stars  of  heaven.  Every  remem 
bered  tone  of  her  voice,  every  turn  of  her  dimlj 
perceived  beautiful  body  proclaimed  her  distance 
from  such  men  as  he;  but  this  was  the  spur  that 
pricked  his  fancy  and  drove  him  on  to  thoughts 
and  schemes  all  having  for  their  ultimate  object 
possession — the  possession  of  the  apparently  un- 
attainable. 

Not  knowing  him  very  thoroughly,  the  miners 
after  a  day  or  two  forgot  their  past  lesson. 

It  was  well  to  go  carefully,  however,  consider- 
ing his  possibilities,  so  they  refrained  at  first 
from  any  open  insubordination ;  but  there  were 
ominous  and  secret  talks  among  them  and  much 
hatching  of  plots,  the  aim  of  which  was  the  test- 
ing of  the  New  Boss's  character  more  fully.  These 
men  were  not  of  a  calibre  to  work  unless  work 
was  really  necessary,  and  he  was  apparently  so 
abstracted  that  the  opinion  quickly  grew  that  he 
might  be  "  easy,"  despite  his  recent  show  of 
strength. 

A  band  of  the  most  desperate  characters  in 
camp  burst  in  on  him  unexpectedly  one  evening 
when  he  was  standing  unarmed  in  one  of  the 
sheds. 

"  To  blazes  with  workin'  in  these  dogrotted 
diggings,"  muttered  the  leader,  truculently  ad- 
vancing. "'  It's  the  end  of  the  world.  These  here 
hulks  move  eastward  tomorrer — vou  hear?  " 


TEE  SEE  RIFF  OF  WASCO.  59 

The  New  Boss  suddenly  found  himself  con- 
fronting some  half  dozen  or  more  of  angry  men, 
plainly  resolved  on  trouble.  His  weapon  was  on 
a  shelf  near  the  door,  which  they  had  slammed 
shut  behind  them;  so  he  was  hemmed  in  with 
them  without  any  advantages  whatever.  But  if 
there  was  any  thought  of  fear  in  him  his  grim 
physique  did  not  betray  it. 

"  You  genteel  baby, — you  windy  ballon,"  he  re- 
sponded with  fierce,  low-pitched  eloquence  "  you 
dainty  quitter,  you  keep  on  workin'  or  yowll  go 
to  blazes,  an'  go  quick.  That's  what  I  "  He  stood 
intrenched  behind  a  small  table  and  looked 
darkly  across  it,  fixing  the  disgruntled  miner 
with  his  glowering  stare. 

The  half  dozen  other  men  lurched  threaten- 
inglv  towards  him.  He  veered  round  and  faced 
them. 

"  You  dig  until  yer  contract  expires ;  an'  you 
bring  all  the  yellow  you  find  here  to  this  shack — 
an'  mind  you,  no  stealing."  His  features  set 
rigidly  as  he  spoke ;  his  eyes  were  cold  and  steely, 
his  muscles  taut,  ready  for  the  first  motion  of 
offense. 

The  leader  of  the  men  again  addressed  him. 

"  The  orrub's  bum.  The  air  ain't  fit  to  breathe. 
The  mine's  the  end  of  the  earths  There's  no  wim- 
men  here." 

"  The  Boss  smiled  sarcastically. 

"  Y^ou're  a  lot  of  ex-convicts,  every  one  o'  you. 


60  TEE  SHERIFF  OF  WA8G0. 

and  jou  think  you'd  like  a  little  vacation  lolling 
round  liere  while  the  Company  feeds  you.  You're 
lookin-  fer  entertainment  from  the  dear  ladies, 
and  maybe  a  quart  or  so  of  rum  every  day.  May- 
be I'll  get  a  boatload  of  wimmen  fer  you  from 
Victoria  or  Seattle.  But  you'll  get  no  rum. 
That's  too  expensive. — Sav\7?  And  ye'll  work, 
an'  the  quicker  the  better.  And  say,  you  keep 
this  in  yer  minds  " — ^liis  voice  sank  to  a  low  im- 
pressive note  sharpened  with  deadly  menace  " — 
I'm  the  Boss;  an'  the  Boss  is  the  law, — an'  the 
only  law  in  this  land." 

He  moved  disdainfully  aw^ay  as  he  spoke, 
nearer  to  the  door ;  but  the  men,  recovering,  saw 
a  chance  to  even  up. 

"  To  hell  with  the  law  I "  cried  the  leader, 
throwing  himself  upon  the  tall,  easy  moving  fig- 
ure. The  men  closed  round  them.  There  was  a 
furious  shock;  then  the  leader  caromed  against 
the  wall,  but  the  others  crashed  impetuously 
upon  the  Boss. 

His  back  against  the  side  of  the  hut,  his  face 
streaming  with  moisture,  his  chest  heaving,  his 
eyes  ablaze,  he  met  them.  His  arms  shot  forth 
with  indescribable  rapidity,  his  shoulders 
hunched,  his  body  lunged,  and  the  mass  w^as 
broken.  One  man  lay  stunned,  head  downward 
across  a  chair,  another  sprawled  on  the  floor. 
But  the  others  came  on. 


THE  SHEIUFF  OF   WASCO.  Gl 

The  leader  again  lurched  forward.  The  Boss 
side-stepped  and  bringing  his  fist  across  the 
man's  neck  sent  him  down  in  a  heap.  Seizing  a 
chair  he  swung  it  on  high  and  sent  it  whirling 
toward  the  light.  It  missed.  A  miner  seized  the 
lantern  and  placed  it  on  the  shelf  out  of  harm's 
way  and  the  rush  began  again. 

They  crushed  the  Boss  to  the  floor  this  time. 
With  blood  streaming  from  his  mouth  and  nose 
he  arose  and  brought  two  to  the  floor  with  him, 
but  again  they  overpowered  him  by  sheer  force 
of  numbers.  Then  they  released  him  and  laughed 
at  him.  They  prodded  him  and  kicked  him  and 
asked  him  about  the  law. 

He  slouched  shamefacedly  towards  the  door, 
and  making  a  sudden  reach  overturned  a  box  on 
the  shelf.  Next  instant  he  stood  erect  and  strong 
in  the  doorway,  his  heavy  Colt  in  his  hand. 

"  Yes,  boys,"  he  cried,  as  he  spat  the  blood 
from  his  mouth,  "  the  law  is  a  good  thing.  It  was 
six  to  one,  and  ye  would-be  gentlemen  of  leisure 
done  it  beautifully.  Now,  by  hell,  it's  six  to  six; 
just  enough  to  go  round. 

A  deafening  crash  rent  the  sodden  air  and  the 
leader  fell  dead  across  the  table.  Again  came  the 
flash,  and  the  roar.    Again  and  again. 

Two  of  the  miners  had  escaped  by  the  window 
meanwhile.      The   Boss,   reloading  his   weapon, 


62  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

sauntered  outside,  leaving  the  dead  and  the 
wounded  within.  He  stood  unconcernedly  to 
meet  the  rush  of  the  miners  outflowing  from  the 
darkening  surroundings. 

They  gathered  around  him  angrily  but  awe- 
struck. 

"  A  little  insubordination,  gentlemen,"  he  an- 
nounced with  a  contemptuous  grin.  "  You  can 
bury  the  four  later  on  together.  The  first  off 
will  have  to  wait  for  the  other  three — they  ain't 
all  ready  yet.  x\n'  remember,  you  dogs,  it  was 
six  to  one  at  first.  But  the  law  wins;  an'  I'm 
the  law  in  this  here  lone  an'  desolate  camp.  Back 
to  the  ^  burrows.'  " 

Two  men  stepped  out  at  his  command  to  await 
the  deaths  within  the  hut.  The  others  turned 
and  disappeared  whence  they  had  come. 

Then  the  New  Boss  smiled  grimly  once  more, 
and  lighted  a  foul-smelling  cigar  which  he  took 
from  his  trousers'  pocket. 

^^  Damn  it !  "  he  exclaimed  sibilantly  between 
his  teeth.  "  Damn  it ;  I  love  it.  It's  so  easy  to 
command  these  devils.  But  it  takes  an  ex-convict 
to  do  it.  They'll  bring  the  gold  in  now  all  right," 
he  chuckled  to  himself.  "  Gold— that's  what  I 
need.  I'll  take  a  trip  termorrow  an'  see  the 
sights.  I'll  make  a  flyin'  visit  over  to  the  locality 
o'   that  place,  Hilltown.     I've  got  that  Thorn 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  63 

beauty  on  my  mind — an^  got  her  bad.  Say  Scott 
— otherwise  Hardeman  of  Oregon — there  ain't 
no  Sheriffs  worryin'  you  up  here;  you'll  have  the 
time  of  yer  life,  you  will." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MR.    THORN^S   DAUGHTER. 

A  FEW  miles  eastward  of  the  patrolmen's  camp 
and  higher  in  the  foothills  was  the  picturesque, 
primitive  woodland  village  of  Hilltown.  The 
houses  were  an  aggregation  of  mere  log  cabins, 
enlarged  and  improved  beyond  the  ordinary,  laid 
out  in  a  wide  clearing,  and  facing  the  rising  sun. 

The  houses  were  perhaps  two  score  in  number, 
and  in  their  midst  was  one  more  ornamental  and 
spacious  than  its  neighbors.  It  was  the  town 
hall  and  general  meeting  place,  and  on  Sundays 
served  as  a  church.  Women  and  children  were 
the  chief  inhabitants  of  Hilltown  in  the  day  time; 
but  at  dusk  the  men  returned  from  the  forests 
and  the  farm  lands  below  in  the  valleys,  and 
gave  additional  life  to  the  place. 

Hilltown  was  one  of  the  few  settlements  that 
dotted  the  foothills  of  the  great  Olympics.  Here 
and  there  were  others  scattered  along  the  trail 
— named  by  ambitious  courtesy  a  road — that 
wound  uphill  and  down  dale,  and  further  west 
skirted  the  shore  below  the  clearing  of  the  pa- 

64 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WAjSCO.  65 

trolmen's  camp.  This  road  was  a  highway  to- 
wards the  western  end  of  the  range,  and  was 
used  considerably  by  the  lumbermen  and  settlers 
thereabouts. 

Hilltown  was  the  popular  resort  for  the  patrol- 
men when  off  duty,  and  when  iron  circumstances 
prevented  their  getting  across  the  water  to 
Seattle.  Recently  there  were  still  others  who 
found  it  popular.  Situated  as  it  was  amid  such 
magnificent  surroundings  of  dense  forests  and 
rolling  hills,  it  had  attracted  the  eyes  of  several 
w^ealthy  citizens  from  the  hustling  city  across  the 
inlet.  These  had  built  pretentious  log  cabins,  and 
with  their  families  made  their  summer  home  for 
a  few  weeks  each  year  in  the  camp  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountains. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  in  one  of  the  largest 
and  most  modern  of  these  cabins  there  sojourned 
Mr.  John  Thorn,  one  of  Seattle's  wealthiest  citi- 
zens, and  his  family,  consisting  in  some  degree  of 
himself,  but  most  conspicuously  of  his  daughter, 
that  blue-eyed,  dark-haired  maiden  who  had  ac- 
companied him,  half  against  his  parental  will 
and  judgment,  on  his  trip  to  the  mining  camp  of 
the  Pacific  coast. 

Her  offense  was  really  a  pardonable  one  how- 
ever, and  it  stood  in  daily  danger  of  being  re- 
peated, for  the  father  and  daughter  were  boon 
companions.     This  was  their  summer  holiday, 


66  THE  SHERIFF  OF  ^YASCO. 

and  they  might  be  seen  roaming  the  forests  and 
the  foothills  together  any  day,  blissfully  content 
with  one  another's  society.  Back  in  the  city,  the 
girl,  a  rich  man^s  daughter,  as  well  as  lovely  and 
winsome  in  herself,  had  as  many  admirers  as  was 
advisable  for  one  young  lady.  None  of  them 
was  indispensable  to  Myra's  happiness,  however. 
Her  father,  she  laughingly  declared,  was  the  only 
beau  who  appealed  to  her,  and  the  only  one  who 
dared  give  her  so  much  trouble  watching  his 
movements  lest  he  start  off  on  one  of  his  many 
expeditions  without  her. 

On  his  part  Mr.  Thorn  was  devotedly  content. 
His  daughter  was  all  he  had  in  the  world.  Con- 
siderations of  beaux  and  marriage  opened  up  be- 
fore the  old  gentleman  a  prospect  of  such  great 
loneliness  that  he  willingly  postponed  them;  al- 
though he  had  ideas  of  his  own  on  the  subject, 
strong  ones,  too,  in  which  his  daughter  did  not 
participate.  Every  woodman  and  patrolman 
about  Hilltown  knew  the  pair,  and  Myra  with 
her  smiling  woman's  eyes  and  countless  feminine 
graces  dear  to  the  heart  of  man,  was  the  hopeless 
admiration  of  all  those  staunch  masculine  bosoms 
in  the  camp  of  Commander  Butts. 

John  Thorn  was  fifty,  stout  and  good-natured, 
but  none  too  stout  or  wealthy  to  swing  along  a 
few  miles  on  the  trail  with  a  woodman  or  a 
patrolman  for  a  companion.     He  knew  how  to 


THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO.  67 

meet  these  rough-bodied,  rough-mannered,  good 
hearted  men;  alid  they  looked  upon  him  with  re- 
spect and  friendship,  and  were  proud  of  his 
wealth  and  his  genuine  democratic  tendencies. 
And  they  were  proud  of  him  because  he  was  the 
father  of  the  finest  girl  in  the  country,  as  they 
described  her. 

Two  weeks  after  the  captain's  experience  with 
the  outlaw  Hardeman,  and  after  all  the  talk  con- 
cerning his  doings  and  his  whereabouts  had  died 
away  in  Hilltown  and  the  neighboring  settle- 
ments, Mr.  John  Thorn  desired  to  take  another 
journey,  this  time  in  connection  with  other  min- 
ing properties  of  his  at  a  distance;  and  he  pre- 
ferred for  some  good  reason  of  his  own  to  go 
alone. 

Early  morning  found  him  seated  on  a  large  flat 
rock  near  the  highway,  ready  to  signal  the  stage, 
which  could  be  heard  rumbling  from  afar  in  the 
clear  mountain  air.  Beneath  his  coat  swung  the 
ever-present  revolver,  the  constant  companion  of 
every  man  in  that  rough  primitive  country.  Sud- 
denly he  rose  at  the  call  of  a  silvery  feminine 
voice  and  smiled  half  guiltily  as  he  beheld  his 
daughter  coming  rapidly  down  the  trail  from  the 
settlement,  picking  her  way  gracefully  and  skill- 
fuUv  between  boulders  and  over  tree  trunks.  On 
her  arm  swung  a  jacket  to  match  the  dark  walk- 
ins:  skirt  of  heavv  arav  material,  trimmed  with 


t)«  THE  SHERIFF  OF    WASCO 

unpretentious  braid.  A  beautiful  girl,  and  she 
ruled  the  old  gentleman  somewhat  mercilessly 
but  always  in  such  a  fashion  as  kept  him  content 
and  delighted  under  her  tender  domineering. 

"  Father  I  caught  you — you  old  fox.  You 
thought  you'd  get  away  without  my  knowing  it, 
didn't  you  now?  "  she  exclaimed  laughingly  as 
she  reached  him,  and  seating  herself  on  the  rock, 
looked  beamingly  at  him. 

"  I  had  a  sneaking  suspicion  I  might,"  he  an- 
swered rather  shamefacedly,  "  but  I  couldn't,  evi- 
dently." 

"  'Course  you  couldn't.    I'm  going !  " 

"  Going, — where?  " 

"  Where  you're  going,  wherever  that  is.  You 
don't  suppose  for  a  moment  I'm  going  to  stay 
here  all  day  alone,  do  you,  father?  " 

He  bit  his  lip.  "  You  can't  go.  I'm  going 
after  a  mine,  Myra.  I've  got  to  hustle  and  do 
strenuous  things  in  the  next  two  days.  I  want  to 
come  back  bj^  the  return  stage." 

"  That'll  suit  me,"  she  laughed.  "  I'll  chaperon 
you.  There  is  a  highwayman  somewhere  around, 
and  he  might  get  you  if  you  went  alone." 

"  Talk  sense,  Myra,"  said  her  parent.  "  Here 
comes  the  stage.  Good-bye,  darling,"  and  he 
stooped  to  kiss  her. 

But  she  laughingly  slid  out  of  his  reach,  ad- 


THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO.  69 

justing  her  hat  which  had  become  loosened  in  her 
chase  to  overtake  him. 

<'  No  '  good-bye,  darling,'  for  me,  Pop — I'm  go- 
ing,'' and  her  round  chin  rose  smilingly  in  air, 
and  he  knew  he  was  beaten. 

'^  Got  to  call  up  my  authority,  or  I  can't  do  a 
thing  with  her,"  mused  Mr.  John  Thorn.  He 
attempted  to  look  sour;  but  was  unsuccessful. 
Then  he  bit  off  the  end  of  a  cigar,  and  absent- 
mindedly  flung  the  cigar  away  in  his  dilemma. 

"  My,  but  you're  rattled,"  said  the  girl  soberly. 
"  Father,"  she  wheedled  sweetly,  ^^  don't  be  stub- 
born. How  would  you  feel  if  I  sneaked  off  and 
deserted  you  in  this  lonesome  place  for  half  a 
week?  You  wouldn't  like  it  specially  well. — Ah, 
here's  the  stage." 

Obediently  Mr.  Thorn  got  into  the  vehicle  after 
his  daughter.  They  were  alone  in  it,  and,  light- 
ing a  cigar  properly  this  time,  he  observed  her 
for  a  moment  and  remarked  seriously: 

''  You  can  go  as  far  as  Butts'  camp  and  come 
back  to-night  on  the  regular  down  stage.  You've 
got  to  do  as  I  tell  you  this  time,  Myra." 

The  lady  tapped  her  heel  against  the  floor  and 
thought  it  over  for  a  minute.  Her  father  was 
really  concerned,  it  appeared,  so  she  dutifully 
capitulated. 

'^  All  right,  father.  It's  going  to  be  lonesome, 
but  I'll  do  any  little  thing  like  that  for  you. 


70  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

But/'  and  here  she  fired  a  gun  for  another  battle, 
which  was  a  standing  one — "  I  can't  oblige  you  in 
that  other  business.  I  won't  marry  the  man  of 
your  choice,  I  give  you  advance  notice.  He  won't 
suit  me,  I  know." 

Mr.  Thorn  winced.  The  shot  was  w^ell  di- 
rected. There  was  a  certain  rich  and  influential 
business  man  at  home  who  had  been  paying  Myra 
some  attention.  Although  she  cared  not  the  snap 
of  a  twig  for  the  gentleman  as  a  husband,  her 
father  had  favored  him  somewhat  mildly,  hoping 
for  a  change  of  heart  in  his  daughter.  But  he 
would  not  have  pushed  her  for  the  world.  Now 
he  thought  for  several  minutes,  and  then  looked 
lovingly  at  her. 

"  When  you  get  married,  marry  any  straight 
gentleman  you  want;  but  don't  leave  me  alone 
in  my  old  age,  Myra.  Give  me  a  bunk  and  a 
cosy  chair;  but  don't  give  me  the  shake — that's 
all." 

She  flung  herself  upon  his  shoulders  and  kissed 
him,  the  tears  standing  in  her  eyes. 

'^  You're  a  goose.  Why,  when  I  marry  I'll 
choose  a  European  nobleman  with  a  title  as  long 
as  a  fence  rail,  an  aristocratic  nose  and  an  empty 
pocket-book — and  we'll  live  off  your  money.  And 
get  a  divorce  some  day." 

Her  absurdity  and  her  affection  lured  him  back 
to  his  wonted  gayety.     Laughing,  and  with  her 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  Tl 

head  on  his  shoulder,  they  began  to  talk  of  the 
beauties  of  a  nearby  cascade  dashing  down  to  the 
straits  from  the  high  regions  above. 

"  Great,  isn't  it,  Myra?  And  to  think  a  beauti- 
ful country  like  this  is  so  little  known,"  he  ex- 
claimed in  ecstacy. 

"It's  lovely;  lovely,"  she  echoed.  "Only  it's 
going  to  be  a  wee  bit  lonely  till  you  come  back, 
Pop.  Don't  let  anything  happen  to  you,"  and 
thus  they  confabbed  until  the  stage  stopped  at  a 
settler's  cabin  near  the  camp  and  Myra  alighted 
to  make  her  headquarters  with  the  good-natured 
woodman's  wife  until  the  evening  stage  would 
take  her  back  to  Hilltown. 

^'  So  long,  father,"  she  cried,  as  she  waved  her 
hand  and  threw  a  kiss  at  Mr.  John  Thorn  in  the 
coach.  He  returned  the  salutation  immediately, 
and  lying  back  against  the  forward  corner  of  the 
seat,  soliloquized :  "  If  some  fellow  doesn't  fall 
in  love  with  that  girl  of  mine  pretty  soon,  I'll 
chew  my  hat.  She's  the  limit,  even  if  I  do  say 
it ;  she's  the  absolute  image  of  her  dear  mother." 

That  afternoon  Captain  Butts  was  drowsily 
meditating  on  a  log  near  the  culinary  quarters, 
w^herein  Yang  Foo  w^as  chanting  unintelligible 
Chinese,  when  he  heard  a  voice. 

"  Goodness,  is  everybody  on  this  earth  asleep? 
And  we  came  up  to  be  amused."  Swinging  round 
he  beheld  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing  the  laughing 


72  THE  SHERIi^F  OF    WASCO. 

critic,  with  two  little  children  from  the  cabin  just 
below. 

"  Great  Scott,  I  wasn't  asleep,"  said  the  husky 
captain,  springing  up.  He  shouted  so  loudly  to 
Yang  Foo  to  bring  a  chair  for  the  visitor  that  the 
hurrying  Celestial  tripped  up  his  friend  Yang 
Ko,  the  other  cook,  in  his  excitement.  Ko  care- 
lessly let  the  end  of  his  queue  fall  into  the  open 
stove  and  went  out  of  the  door  with  a  bound,  the 
knot  in  his  pig  tail  aflame  and  a  couple  of  hounds 
after  him. 

"  Gracious — the  poor  man,"  cried  Myra  uncer- 
tainly. 

Butts  grabbed  the  cook  by  the  back  of  the 
neck  and  smothered  the  sizzling  appendage. 
Then  he  apologetically  explained  to  Miss  Myra 
that  two  Chinese  cooks  in  one  camp  were  two 
too  many ;  and  the  pair  of  Celestials  trotted  back 
to  the  kitchen,  highly  indignant,  and  in  reprisal 
burned  the  camp's  dinner. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Thorn,"  said  the  cap- 
tain earnestly  if  belatedly.  "This  camp  cer- 
tainly does  appreciate  the  honor.  Those  men  of 
niine — "  but  they  cut  him  short  by  the  haste  with 
which  they  came  to  speak  for  themselves. 

"  Fancy  Chinamen  as  alarm  clocks,"  laughed 
Myra  slyly,  "  and  they  always  seemed  so  quiet 
and  unobtrusive  too." 

"  That  there  chair,"  said  Jenks  of  Oregon  in- 


TUE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  73 

dignantly,  "  ain't  the  sort  this  camp  oughter  offer 
a  lady  to  set  on.  Jones,  where's  that  big  bear- 
skin  o'  yours  you  never  could  get  no  right  use 
fer?  Waitin'  to  be  asked  fer  it,  are  you?  "  And 
they  throned  Myra,  protesting,  blushing  and 
flattered,  on  the  great  bear-skin,  and  pressed  into 
service  the  brand-new  dipper  to  fetch  her  water 
from  the  spring. 

Their  eager  admiration  testified  whether  or  no 
they  found  her  charming  as  she  sat  there  with 
the  sunlight  on  her  fair,  piquant  face,  the  two 
little  ones  beside  her  solemnly  eyeing  the  ring  of 
stalwart,  handsomely  muscular  fellows,  each  anx- 
ious to  get  the  princess'  eye  and  to  be  more  gal- 
lant than  his  neighbor. 

"  Father's  gone  off  prospecting,  and  left  me 
at  home,"  she  said.  ''  Guess  he  was  just  afraid. 
That  outlaw  has  demoralized  all  the  neighbor- 
hood." 

^^  Pshaw— that  outlaw?  He's  gone.  He's 
eloped  with  himself.  Found  he'd  made  a  mistake 
in  his  locality.  Say,  you  don't  suppose  he'd  want 
to  stay  round  here  after  he'd  seen  us,  do  you?" 
they  inquired  joyfully. 

^•Well  no,  I  really  shouldn't  think  so,"  she 
agreed,  '^  I'm  sure  he  wouldn't  if  he  met  your 
Chinamen." 

They  thumped  each  other  in  their  approval  of 


74  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

her.  "  Dern  fool  Chink ;  we'll  cut  his  pig-tail 
off,"  they  threatened  delighted.  "'  Oughtn't  to 
have  a  pig-tail  if  he  can't  keep  it  outer  mischief." 

^-  It's  funny  about  that  outlaw  too,"  they  said, 
coming  back  to  the  subject.  "  Here's  Jenks  tellin' 
how  there's  a  fire-eatin'  Sheriff  from  Wasco 
county  campin'  on  his  trail,  an'  we  ain't  seen 
either  o'  them." 

'^Well,  I'm  sure  we  don't  want  to,"  said  the 
girl  with  a  mock  shudder,  "  at  least  not  unless 
we  meet  them  both  together." 

"  Well  now,  that's  what  we're  liable  to,  ac- 
cordin'  to  Jenks.  He  thinks  his  Sheriff  is  just 
the  salt  o'  the  earth." 

"Does  he?"  she  said  interested.  "Who  is 
your  Sheriff,  Mr.  Jenks?  "  and  the  patrolman, 
pleased  because  the  princess'  blue  eyes  were  bent 
on  him,  told  her  some  things  that  he  knew  and 
very  much  more  that  his  admiration  imagined 
concerning  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco. 

"  Mercy,"  she  laughed,  "  I'm  not  sure  but  I'd 
rather  meet  Mr.  Hardeman  himself  than  your 
Sheriff.  I'm  afraid  of  him  already."  But  some- 
where at  the  back  of  her  eyes  the  spirit  of  con- 
quest danced  as  she  looked  at  the  big  patrol- 
man and  listened  to  his  defense. 

"  Sho' !  He  wouldn't  harm  a  hair  of  your 
head.  He's  a  gentleman.  He  was  born  an'  bred 
in  the  West,  an'  knows  how  to  treat  a  lady.    But 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  75 

he  sure  has  no  use  for  that  outlaw  Hardeman/' 
said  Mr.  Jenks  eagerly. 

Miss  Thorn  shrugged  her  pretty  shoulders. 
"  We'll  see.  Captain  Butts  and  his  camp  cer- 
tainly know  how  to  treat  a  Lady  at  least,"  and  her 
smiling  lips  flattered  every  man  of  them  in  turn, 
"  I'll  send  the  Sheriff  to  them  if  he  needs  in- 
structing." 

And  yet  somehow  it  seemed  as  though  she 
would  fain  have  the  teaching  of  that  object  les- 
son herself  to  the  redoubtable  Sheriff. 

"Come,  children,  we  must  run  home.  There's 
a  fierce  Wasco  gentleman  in  the  woods  and  he 
might  get  us,  for  we  haven't  any  protectors,"  she 
cried  laughing,  sure  in  her  heart  they  w^ere  all 
her  protectors. 

As  she  went  away  down  the  sunlit  trail  with 
three  big  patrolmen  to  guard  her  against  outlaws 
and  sheriffs,  every  man  remaining  in  that  camp 
followed  her  with  his  eyes  and  his  heart.  Jenks 
mournfully  seized  the  new  dipper  and  poured 
himself  a  big  dose  of  water. 

"  She's  a  lady,"  he  announced  sentimentally, 
"and  I  guess  the  Sheriff  is  able  to  paddle  his 
ow^n  canoe."  And  they  drank  in  turn  to  the  senti- 
ment, partly  because  it  was  the  new  dipper  and 
she  had  drunk  from  it. 

The  sun  was  just  blanketed  behind  the  range 
and  the  hush  of  darkness  was  settling  upon  the 


76  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

foothills  as  Myra  entered  the  stage  for  the  return 
journey  to  Hilltown.  Several  other  passengers 
were  aboard,  woodmen  and  one  or  two  women, 
and  the  stage  halted  frequently  in  the  first  mile 
or  two  to  discharge  them  one  after  another. 

A  mile  from  the  great  flat  stone  which  marked 
the  trail  to  Hilltown  where  Myra  and  her  father 
had  that  morning  awaited  the  stage,  they  entered 
the  deep  gloom  of  a  fir  forest.  The  great  trunks 
on  either  side  of  the  road  were  scarce  visible  as 
the  driver  cracked  his  whip  over  the  cantering 
horses  and  hastened  the  speed.  Within  the  coach 
a  solitary  oil  lamp  lighted  the  face  of  Myra,  and 
those  of  the  man  and  his  wife  who  were  now  her 
sole  companions. 

Suddenly,  though  there  was  no  grade  at  that 
spot  to  account  for  it,  they  felt  the  grinding 
shock  of  the  brakes.  Next  moment  the  driver  de- 
livered a  solitary  "  Damn ! "  uttered  beneath  his 
breath,   and  the  coach   slowed   to  a  standstill. 

The  woodman,  alarmed,  leaped  out,  as  did 
his  wife  and  Myra,  and  beheld  the  driver  erect 
with  the  reins  fallen  before  him  and  hands  high 
in  air. 

All  three  of  the  passengers  knew  on  the  in- 
stant what  had  occurred.  The  woodman^s  hand 
descended  like  a  flash  to  his  gun. 

"  Drop  it ! — Hands  up,  everybody,"  came  in  a 
curiously  sharp  whiplike  voice  from  a  tall  indis- 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  77 

tinct  figure  not  fifteen  feet  away;  and  the  grim 
mouth  of  a  Colt  pointed  menacingly  first  at  the 
driver  and  then  at  the  woodman. 

It  was  all  so  quietly  done,  so  much  like  an  or- 
dinary stop,  that  Myra  could  scarce  believe  the 
import  of  it.  There  was  none  of  the  theatric  play 
she  had  imagined  under  the  circumstances ;  every- 
thing was  so  orderly,  that  she  failed  to  fully  ap- 
preciate the  danger.  Not  so  the  woodman,  he 
realized  in  an  instant.  There  was  no  money 
aboard  the  stage.  Everyone  knew  that.  It  was 
the  girl  Myra  that  was  wanted.  With  him  it 
was  now  or  never,  and  quick  as  thought  up  came 
his  arm  with  the  weapon  in  it.  Scarce  had  it 
moved  before  there  was  a  report  and  the  man 
sank  to  the  ground,  his  revolver  dropping  away 
from  him,  his  shoulder  pierced  by  the  outlaw's 
bullet. 

His  wife  stooped  instinctively  to  aid  him,  and 
then  Myra,  still  half  dazed,  realized  that  stage 
and  horses  were  disappearing  down  the  road  on  a 
wild  pell-mell  rush,  with  the  driver  shouting  and 
making  desperate  attempts  to  reach  his  lost 
reins. 

The  light  from  the  coach  disappeared  and  left 
them  in  deep  gloom.  Instinctively  she  moved  to 
pick  up  the  woodman's  revolver  and  the  next  mo- 
ment she  felt  her  wrists  in  a  firm  powerful  grip. 
She  heard  something  click,  and  then — horror  in- 


78  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

credible — she  was  handcuffed.  She  shrieked  in 
dismay;  but  a  hand  roughly  stuffed  something 
in  her  mouth  and  she  was  swung  from  the  ground 
with  sudden  and  irresistible  power.  Next  in- 
stant she  felt  her  bosom  against  the  heaving 
breast  of  the  man  and  his  arms  encircling  her 
body;  then  came  a  swift  upward  rush  through 
thick  dank  woods;  she  heard  a  despairing  shriek 
from  the  woman  on  the  highway.  A  twig  flew 
into  her  face,  and  another.  She  struggled,  but 
those  arms  tightened  around  her,  and  the  pace 
only  quickened. 

She  felt  the  man's  hot  breath  against  her  fore- 
head and  in  the  gloom  she  saw  that  his  face  was 
masked;  and  the  tightening  of  the  muscles  of 
steel  around  her  waist  and  her  limbs,  and  the 
pressure  of  his  powerful  chest  against  her  well 
nigh  smothered  her. 

Presently,  however,  the  pressure  relaxed  as  her 
bearer  placed  her  upon  the  ground.  She  was 
dimly  conscious  that  the  stars  beyond  the  tree- 
tops  were  just  appearing,  and  wondered  if  the 
sun  had  yet  set  on  old  Mount  Ranier,  far  away  to 
the  south. 

Once  more  she  knew  she  was  being  lifted,  that 
the  terrible,  remorseless  grip  was  closing  around 
her,  tighter  than  ever.  She  was  going  up,  up,  into 
the  heart  of  the  Olympics,  and  slowly  the  awful 
horror  of  it  all  came  to  her — the  present — the 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  79 

future.  She  writhed  in  a  final  desperate  struggle, 
only  to  be  carried  closer  and  more  firmly.  She 
tried  to  cry  out,  but  only  sobbed  under  the  gag 
in  her  mouth;  then  in  her  pitiful  extremity  she 
started  to  pray  silently.  But  on  a  sudden  the 
half-seen  woodland  sky  became  blurred,  a  roaring 
sound  churned  in  her  ears,  and  she  mercifully 
lost  consciousness. 

A  little  while  later  she  awakened  to  the  flash- 
ing of  a  light  in  her  eyes.  The  desperado  had 
laid  her  on  the  ground  beside  a  fallen  tree, 
whether  in  mercy  to  her  or  because  he  was  tired 
she  could  not  tell.  Between  her  thick,  dark,  half- 
opened  eyelashes,  she  saw  him  bend  over  her  with 
a  lighted  match,  alarm  in  his  face. 

"  Fainted,"  he  muttered,  as  he  extinguished  the 
light  and  listened  for  any  sound  from  behind. 
There  was  none.  The  two  were  high  in  the  foot- 
hills now  and  far  from  the  road.  The  danger  of 
detection  was  indeed  remote.  He  groped  in  the 
deep  gloom  and,  lifting  her  prostrate  figure 
slightly,  adjusted  it  better  to  its  leafy  bed.  He 
removed  the  gag  from  her  mouth,  and  then  dis- 
covered that  she  was  conscious. 

"  Scream  if  you  want  to,"  he  said.  "  It  won't 
be  of  any  use  though.  Better  keep  your  strength. 
We've  got  a  long  climb  yet." 

She  closed  her  eyes.  His  voice  was  quiet  and 
it  carried  no  threat;  there  was  a  peculiar,  almost 


80  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

a  melodious  drawl  to  it,  and  she  knew  at  once 
from  what  she  had  heard  that  she  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  dangerous  outlaw  Hardeman. 

What  could  she  do?  With  despairing  presence 
of  mind  she  decided  to  appear  weaker  than  she 
really  was;  to  await  her  opportunity  to  escape. 
The  moon,  which  was  now  at  its  full,  was  begin- 
ning to  cast  its  beams  through  the  firs.  She  could 
see  quite  distinctly  that  they  were  some  way  be- 
low the  entrance  of  a  narrow  pass  that  cut  up- 
ward and  around  the  highest  foothill,  leading 
between  two  overshadowing  granite  peaks  to  the 
left.  He  was  taking  her  into  the  unknown  re- 
gions; the  regions  where  the  Pacific  winds 
whirled  past  the  giants  of  the  range  on  the  way 
east;  the  land  which  had  never  been  visited  even 
by  a  stray  prospector;  which  was  the  most  in- 
accessible, the  roughest,  the  most  lonesome  imag- 
inable. 

She  thought ;  and  as  she  thought,  once  more  her 
mind  darkened  with  fear.  When  he  had  her 
there,  when  she  was  all  alone  with  him,  what 
would  happen  then?  And  how  long  would  she 
live  to  know  of  it? 

It  was  a  great  plateau  beyond  and  behind 
those  peaks,  known  to  exist  because  it  could  be 
seen  from  the  nearby  summits,  but  unvisited  in 
the  memory  of  any  man  in  these  parts,  unless 
the  Indians.    She  knew  the  pass  led  to  that  mys- 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  81 

terious  region,  for  she  had  heard  the  stately 
Talabam,  chief  of  the  Yakimas,  tell  of  it.  '  The 
Land  of  the  Silent  Wind — beyond  the  pass 
named  the  Devil's  Walk  '—was  the  Indian's  de- 
scription of  it.  This  frowning  pass  above  her 
was  the  '  Devil's  Walk.' 

Summoning  her  courage  she  rolled  suddenly 
away  from  her  captor  and  leaped  to  her  feet 
unsteadily;  and  lifting  her  handcuffed  wrists  be- 
fore her  made  a  motion  of  offense. 

He  merely  laughed. 

'^  Oh,  pshaw,  what's  the  use?  I've  certainly 
no  intention  of  harming  you.  Sit  down  and  be 
sensible;  don't  overtax  yourself  or  you'll  faint 
again.*' 

He  spoke  in  that  calm  soft  voice  of  his  and  sat 
down  himself,  ignoring  the  menacing  handcuffs 
lifted  to  strike  him.  ''  Couldn't  hurt  me  if  you 
tried,"  he  laughed. 

''Take  off  these — take  them  off!"  she  cried 
angrily  and  defiantly. 

He  was  silent  a  moment,  as  though  considering 
the  matter.  ''  I  will  some  day — when  you  say 
please.  But  not  now,"  he  said,  with  an  unpleas- 
ant smile  on  his  mouth. 

''  Some  day  I  "  She  sank  to  the  tree-trunk  and 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  the  awful  horror 
of  her  position  descending  on  her  heart  like  lead. 
She  was  to  be  a  prisoner  for  days.     This  was 


82  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

only  the  beginning — the  beginning  of  what?  She 
must  escape;  but  howf 

She  might  make  a  rush  now,  this  moment, 
and  succeed  in  eluding  him,  but  what  could  she 
do  against  the  wild  dangers  of  these  deep  gloomy 
forests — the  bears  for  instance — she  unarmed 
and  bound?  Suppose  she  escaped  for  a  while! 
Strong  and  fleet  as  he  was,  how  long  could  she  ex- 
pect to  elude  him? 

It  was  one  thing  to  rush  through  the  forests, 
over  obstructions,  down  streams  and  along  dan- 
gerous paths,  when  the  free  use  of  one's  limbs 
was  given;  but  she  was  handcuffed.  She  saw 
the  hopeless  folly  of  any  attempt  at  escape  now. 
No ;  she  must  wait. 

Evidently  he  divined  her  thoughts.  "  No  use, 
you  see!  Escape  ain't  possible.  But  you'll  be 
well  cared  for;  you  needn't  have  the  slightest 
fear  of  yours  truly,"  he  said  with  his  intoler- 
able smile. 

Was  he  mocking  her?  or  was  he  speaking  the 
truth?  Could  it  be  that  she  was  safe  from  bodily 
harm  with  him?  She  had  heard  many  of  the 
stories  of  his  career  told  openly  by  the  people 
of  Hilltown ;  others  she  had  heard  vaguely.  But 
she  was  quick  to  remember  those  hints  of  his 
treatment  of  women  which  seemed  to  lie  deep  in 
every  narration  of  his  exploits. 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  fear  of  you  person- 


THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO.  83 

ally,"  she  answered  with  an  assumption  of  cour- 
age. "  You  are  altogether  too  clever  to  jeopar- 
dize your  neck.  You  couldn't  touch  me  against 
mv  will  and  expect  to  escape  the  noose,  or — or — 
Tou  see  the  patrolmen  will  come.  Every  man  in 
the  01ymj)ics  will — "  she  almost  sobbed  in  the 
strength  of  her  confidence  in  them. 

He  seized  her  arm  clumsily  and  thrust  his  face 
with  evil  admiration  close  to  hers. 

"You're  risfht;  thev  surelv  will — but  I  onuess 
it's  o'oin'  to  be  worth  it.  Glad  vou  ain't  afraid  o' 
me.  Say  now,  but  I  wouldn't  hurt  you — not  fer 
all  the  gold  in  the  State  o'  Washington.  Come," 
and  he  half  led,  half  dragged  her  a  step  or  two 
forward,  angrily  resisting. 

"  I  will  not  go,"  she  flashed  forth.  "  Don't 
you  presume  to  touch  me,  or  to  lay  a  finger  on 
me,  sir,"  and  her  chin  shot  up,  and  she  stamped 
her  foot,  lovely  in  her  feeble  defiance.  But  she 
had  forgotten  that  this  was  no  vassal,  no  pre- 
sumptuous, good-natured  admirer. 

The  outlaw  paused  for  a  moment,  regarding 
her.  Then  he  laughed,  and  in  the  coarse  brutality 
of  the  sound  she  learned  her  error. 

"  You're  too  confounded  sassy,  my  lady. 
You'll  learn  better  by  and  by.  Shucks  fer  your 
patrolmen.  Shucks  fer  you,"  and  with  a  swift 
lunge  he  caught  her  fiercely  and  swept  her  off  the 
ground,  and  the  next  moment  she  was  being  borne 


84  THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO. 

along,  faint  with  terror  and  half  strangled,  in 
his  muscular  embrace  as  before. 

Compared  with  this,  all  his  past  roughness  had 
been  the  merest  gentleness.  His  square  wicked 
jaw  was  shut  hard;  and  sinister  cruelty  was 
stamped  on  every  line  of  his  lower  face,  which 
alone  was  visible  to  her. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN   THE   SILENT  LAND. 

A  FEW  moments'  more  of  this  journey  brought 
fear  to  Myra's  heart  far  beyond  any  she  had 
felt  before.  Until  now  the  ruffian  had  been 
fairly  kind.  But  that  was  gone.  He  was  trans- 
formed. This  animal,  muttering  vile  curses  be- 
tween his  clenched  teeth,  whose  arms  gripped 
her  helpless,  though  furiously  resisting  body 
with  the  vicious  license  of  unbridled  anger,  was 
a  mere  human  beast,  obeying  his  primordial  hu- 
man instinct — conquest  of  woman.  A  bear  lead- 
ing his  mate  to  his  den  on  the  mountain  side 
was  millenniums  in  advance  of  him.  Myra  in  her 
stupor  of  terror  recognized  the  devil  she  had 
roused,  and  the  instinct  of  the  woman  in  her 
knew  instantly  she  must  do  something  to  pla- 
cate him.  She  had  taken  the  wrong  way.  In 
her  desperate  plight  it  would  be  better  to  pro- 
pitiate him,  to  appear  less  belligerent,  less  hor- 
ror-stricken at  his  loathsome  passion  than  she 
felt. 

"  You  hurt  me.    Let  me  down  and  I'll  walk.'- 

85 


86  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

KotwitlistandiDg  that  lier  face  was  deathly  white, 
her  voice  sounded  sweet  and  womanly  in  his 
ears,  as  she  had  intended. 

He  hesitated;  then  released  her,  leering  upon 
her  his  evident  willingness  to  be  conciliated. 
Loosed  from  his  hot,  vile  grasp  she  gasped  in 
spite  of  herself. 

"  Walk  then,"  he  breathed  heavily,  "  and  when 
you're  tired,  mind  you  say  so.  Don'^t  try  any 
damned  woman's  conniptions  with  me.  I  never 
stand  fer  them." 

She  was  heartily  glad  to  be  alive  by  this  time. 
She  thrust  back  her  anger,  her  terrified,  helpless, 
insulted  tears,  and  walked  rapidly  by  his  side,  as 
he  half  led,  half  pulled  her  along,  one  of  his 
rough  hands  grasping  her  securely  meanwhile. 

They  were  headed  for  the  pass,  though  it  was 
still  miles  away,  and  the  wind  from  the  greatest 
of  oceans  was  striking  them  full  in  the  face.  Her 
hair  had  fallen  loose  down  her  back,  and  her 
breath  was  coming  in  gasps  from  distress  and 
the  violent  exercise.  Such  sheer  terror  was  upon 
her  that  she  could  not  think  connectedly.  Her 
mind  was  benumbed,  yet  fearfully  alive — alive 
to  the  end  of  this  journey. 

Full  night  had  come,  but  the  outlaw^  made  no 
change  in  his  furious  haste.  It  was  a  strange 
country  to  Myra.  Nature  here  was  stern  and 
gloomy;   fearful   blackness  lurked  between   the 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  ^VASCO,  87 

scattered  ghostly  pines;  and  great  boulders  and 
dim  ragged  knolls  loomed  forbiddingly  under  the 
faint  sky.  Every  rock  and  stone,  every  clump 
of  sentinel  trees,  seemed  in  league  with  the  evil 
of  the  place,  and  to  deny  her  unuttered  appeals 
for  aid. 

But  nature  had  produced  no  coward  when  she 
made  Myra. 

Gradually  her  mind  cleared,  and  she  perceived 
that  his  intent  to  take  her  where  distance  meant 
safety  to  himself,  meant  also  respite  to  her — 
temporary  at  least — even  with  certain  doom 
at  the  end;  and  though  she  knevv'  the  men  of 
the  patrol  would  soon  be  out  on  the  trail,  hot 
and  vengeful,  knew  too  that  they  could  never 
hope  to  overtake  her  in  time — she  did  not  falter. 
Her  only  hope  lay  in  herself. 

She  dared  not  think  now  of  father  or  friends. 
All  her  thoughts  vrere  centered  on  this  stalwart 
ruffian  whose  grasp  painfully  crushed  her  wrist, 
and  dragged  her,  breathless  and  stumbling,  be- 
side him.     How  could  she  circumvent  him? 

She  must  rally  her  woman's  resources;  she 
must  keep  him  off,  must  conciliate  him  until 
some  opportunity  for  freedom  offered.  If  she 
could  not  do  this — if  she  could  not  fight  with  wo- 
man's wit — if  she  could  not  find  his  weaker  side, 
she  was  lost.  Her  lot  would  be  worse  than  that 
of  a  captive  slave  in  the  days  of  Roman  Con- 


88  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

quest.  Young  and  innocent  of  the  darker  side 
of  life,  she  knew  the  stories  of  history.  She 
knew  by  instinct  of  her  sex  that  she  was  face  to 
face  with  the  raw  devil  still  lurking  in  man  be- 
hind the  veneer  of  centuries  of  civilization. 

So  summoning  her  courage  she  spoke  to  him 
again,  striving  to  hide  her  fear,  and  begged  him 
softlv  not  to  hurt  her,  and  thanked  him  half 
whispering  when  he  lessened  his  pull  on  her 
wrists.  Spent  and  panting,  she  dared  not  hang 
back  lest  he  should  again  attempt  to  carry  her. 
He  was  tireless.  He  had  the  strength  of  a  grizzly 
bear. 

At  last  when  it  seemed  that  her  heart  must 
burst  with  exertion,  she  stumbled  and  fell  heavily 
on  a  loose  stone.  Some  feeling  of  pity  stirred 
him  perhaps,  as  he  raised  her,  and  perceived  her 
exhausted  state.  With  a  queer,  unexpected  gen- 
tleness he  seated  her  of  his  own  accord  on  a 
boulder. 

"  Played  out,  and  too  doggoned  proud  to  say 
so,  ain't  you?  Here,  rest,  and  remember  I  ain't 
goin'  to  kill  you." 

He  seemed  no  longer  angry.  The  line  of  his 
mouth  while  harsh  and  grim  had  softened  from 
its  late  look  of  cruelty.  His  voice  was  almost 
kind.  From  the  moment  she  had  tried  timidly 
to  thank  him  for  relaxing  his  grasp  of  her  aching 
wrists  his  manner  had  changed  and  grown  grad- 


Tui^  SHEEIFF  OF  WASCO.  89 

ually  softer  and  less  peremptory.  It  almost 
seemed  that  the  normal  feeling  of  civilized  man 
— to  protect  and  help  the  woman — had  risen  in 
him  and  was  swaying  his  actions  toward  her. 

''  Where  are  we  going?  Where  are  you  taking 
me?  I've  done  vou  no  harm,"  she  cried  to  him 
beseechingly.  Her  voice  shook  in  spite  of  her 
bravery;  the  thrill  of  fear  and  lonesomeness  was 
in  it. 

He  answered  in  a  melodious  drawl,  half  mock- 
ing yet  not  unkind,  which  might  have  been  at- 
tractive in  any  other  man : 

''  We're  going  where  no  white  man  but  me  has 
trodden  before — the  land  of  the  Silent  Wind. 
Ever  hear  of  that  place?  To-morrow  we'll  be 
through  the  pass.  You'll  be  Queen  of  the  coun- 
try, and  I — well,  I'll  be  your  Prince  Charming 
and  dance  to  your  bidding." 

She  was  braver  than  she  ever  thought  slie 
could  be  under  such  circumstances.  Much  as  sbe 
had  heard  of  the  personality  of  this  great  out- 
law, she  was  unprepared  for  such  a  change  in 
him ;  so,  gathering  her  courage  again,  she  an- 
swered : 

"^  Suppose  that  I  don't  want  you  to  dance  my 
bidding?  Supposing  Td  very  much  prefer  to 
remain  alone?  " 

"  Then  you  shall.  But  to  be  alone  will  be 
worse  than  to  be  in  my  company.     There  are 


90  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

things'  worse  than  being  queen  to  a  solitary  sub- 
ject, even  an  outlaw.  And  one  of  those  thmgs  is 
to  be  a  queen  alone  in  the  place  we're  going  to, 
which  is  really,  Miss  Thorn,  the  land  where  even 
the  wind  makes  no  noise.  It  is  a  great  region  of 
silence.     And  silence  is  devilish  lonesome." 

She  shuddered,  but  offered  no  further  resist- 
ance; and  again  he  led  her  forward  toward  the 
fateful  pass.  The  journey  w^as  long,  and  broken 
often  by  minutes  w^hen  he  insisted  upon  her 
resting.  He  brought  her  water  and  gave  her 
bread  from  his  pockets,  even  apologizing  for  the 
poor  quality  of  the  food.  And  so  at  last  the 
dawn  broke  upon  them. 

Early  evening  of  that  day  had  come  ere  they 
reached  the  top  of  the  pass.  Then  they  looked 
down  upon  a  land  of  huge  trees  and  many  boul- 
ders, and  mile  upon  mile  of  high  plain,  dotted 
here  and  there  with  sudden  abrupt  risings  in  the 
form  of  small,  flat-topped  hills  with  precipitous 
sides — like  the  mesas  of  the  far  South. 

She  must  have  fainted  from  sheer  exhaustion, 
or  fallen  asleep  at  last;  for  she  knew  nothing 
more  until  she  found  herself  lying  upon  a  great 
bear-skin  at  the  mouth  of  a  cave.  She  glanced 
around  and  knew  that  she  was  on  one  of  the 
flat-topped  elevations,  for  she  could  see  the  plain 
a  hundred  feet  below,  the  wooded  land  in  the  dis- 
tance, with  the  Olympics  towering  behind,  the 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  91 

sun  of  another  day  just  topping  their  crests. 
Afar  off  to  the  west  she  perceived  a  great  body 
of  water.  The  breeze  that  caused  no  sound  on 
the  barren  plain  below  came  salt-laden  from  the 
Pacific.  She  arose  weakly,  and  an  intense  relief 
seized  her  as  she  did  so — for  there  at  her  feet 
were  the  handcuffs.  She  was  alone  on  the  mesa, 
and  the  terrors  past  were  momentarily  lost  in  the 
joy  of  being  limb  free,  of  once  more  being  her 
own  physical  self. 

Food  and  water  had  been  placed  at  the  mouth 
of  the  cave.  She  was  nearly  famished;  and  so, 
gathering  hope  from  this  kindness,  and  still  more 
from  the  outlaw's  absence,  she  ate  the  food  and 
set  about  exploring  her  environments. 

It  was  indeed  a  lonely  locality.  Surrounding 
the  cave  were  a  number  of  boulders  rearing  their 
flat  heads'  high  in  air,  but  on  this  mesa  there 
was  nothing  else.  Xot  only  was  she  alone  there, 
but  she  could  not  fail  to  notice  the  great  stillness 
of  the  whole  surrounding  land. 

At  first  it  was  no  hardship.  To  be  alone,  freed 
from  her  captor's  presence,  was  relief.  She 
quickly  discovered  that  the  plains  below  could 
be  reached  only  by  a  perilous  descent  on  the 
mesa's  southern  side.  Up  this  side  she  had  been 
borne.  Stooping  over,  she  could  discern  heavy 
footprints  in  the  treacherous  earth.  For  a  wo- 
man to  escape  that  way  would  be  a  most  diffi- 


92  THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO. 

cult  undertaking ;  but  nevertheless  she  studied  it 
carefully,  for  she  might  need  to  take  a  desperate 
chance  before  long. 

The  day  seemed  never  to  end.  The  cloudless 
sky  and  the  utter  loneliness  palled  upon  her. 
Her  mental  distress  grew  acute.  At  times  her 
thoughts  came  feverishly  fast;  at  other  times  she 
had  no  thoughts  whatever,  but  wandered  aim- 
lessly about,  scarcely  conscious  of  what  she  was 
doinsr.  Towards  sunset  she  missed  the  sounds  of 
animal  life  she  was  used  to,  the  cheerful  chirping 
of  birds,  the  mooing  of  kine,  so  dear  to  her  over 
the  range  in  Hilltown.  She  became  acutely 
pained  by  the  noise  of  her  own  footsteps;  the 
rustle  of  her  skirts  seemed  weird  and  without 
cause.  She  spoke  aloud  in  her  distress,  but  her 
voice  came  back  to  her  in  a  low,  mocking  echo 
from  around  the  huge  boulders.  The  sun  dip- 
ping beneath  the  Pacific  flared  against  the  Olym- 
pics and  dazzled  her  sight  as  she  looked  towards 
the  far  distant  pass,  hoping  vainly  that  she 
might  see  human  forms  descending  to  her  aid. 
Surely  Captain  Butts  and  his  men  were  already 
on  her  trail !  She  paused  to  think.  Surely  they 
were  searching  for  her,  but — would  they  ever 
think  of  this  place?  Why  should  they?  None 
of  them  knew  it  save  in  a  legendary  way.  No, 
they  w^ould  look  much  nearer  home.  There  was 
no  hope  from  them. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  93 

She  was  now  crying  softly  to  herself.  Her 
head  was  on  fire.  She  could  hear  no  sound,  from 
below  or  above,  and  the  stars  just  beginning  to 
appear  seemed  real  beings,  unfriendly  and  silent 
as  all  else,  twinkling  only  to  annoy  and  terrify 
her.  All  overpowered  she  fell  sobbing  to  the 
earth  by  the  cave's  mouth. 

"  Lost,'-  she  murmured,  "  lost  to  the  world, 
and  to  father— to  father.''  Then  a  wild  outburst 
of  grief  came  to  her  relief. 

She  lay  there  a  long  time,  waiting  and  listen- 
ing. She  was  waiting  for  the  return  of  her 
jailer.  If  this  was  part  of  his  plan  to  reduce  her 
will,  it  was  as  successful  as  it  was  cruel.  She 
could  have  killed  him  for  it,  only  that  would 
have  left  her  destitute  of  the  hope  of  even  his 
treacherous  society.  For  it  teas  a  hope  now,  as 
well  as  a  dread. 

"  Better  him— better  that  man  than  to  be 
alone,"  she  whispered.  Then  in  a  flash  of  bitter 
memory  she  recalled  the  tales  she  had  heard  of 
his  deadly  enemy,  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco. 

She  laughed  aloud  in  utter  scorn.  "  The 
Sheriff  of  Wasco.  Some  farmer  with  a  reputa- 
tion for  picking  a  fight.  He  on  the  trail  of 
Hardeman  I  With  such  a  prodigy  round  how 
was  the  stage  held  up  so  easily?  How  was  I 
captured  without  interference?  The  Sheriff  of 
Wasco!    Bah — he's  a  myth." 


94  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

At  this  moment  she  became  conscious  of  a 
movement  at  the  edge  of  the  mesa.  Her  heart 
leapt  to  her  throat  as  a  figure  crawled  over  its 
edge — revolver  in  hand. 

She  was  on  her  feet,  queenly  despite  her  tat- 
tered clothing  and  disheveled  hair,  her  eyes  shin- 
ing hard  and  bright. 

''  So  you've  come  back.  Well — "  and  her  voice 
shook  queerly,  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you." 

"  Thought  you  likely  would  be,"  he  retorted, 
and  slipping  his  revolver  into  place  looked  at 
her ;  then  he  laughed  at  her  with  open  brutality. 
"  Lonesomeness  cured  you,  didn't  it?  What  did 
I  tell  you?  You're  goin'  to  grow  real  fond  o'  me 
by  an'  by." 

Myra  never  winced.  She  was  fighting  him 
now  with  the  only  w^eapons  she  had. 

^'  Do  not  make  me  fear  you,"  she  said  with 
gentle  appeal.  "  Yes,  it  was  lonesome.  Where 
have  you  been  all  day?  " 

He  liked  to  be  appealed  to.  "  Well,  well,  I've 
been  sorter  prospectin',"  he  said  tolerantly,  with 
a  fierce  after  chuckle  at  his  own  humor. 

"  Prospecting?    For  what?    Gold?  " 

He  laughed  again.  "  Ever  hear  of  anybody 
pros-pectin'  for  coyotes?  That's  what  I  went 
after." 

She  did  not  understand  anything  beyond  the 
half  indulgent  mockery  of  his  voice. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  95 

"  Coyotes?  They  aren't  common  round  here, 
Mr.  Hardeman,"  she  persisted. 

"^  The  ones  that  consider  their  health  ain't/' 
he  agreed.  Smiling  grimly  he  reached  back  for 
the  heavy  Colt  at  his  side,  and  laid  it  shimmer- 
ing on  the  moonlit  ground.  ''  There's  one  par- 
ticular coyote  calls  himself  a  Sheriff,  who's  been 
layin'  on  my  trail  so  long  now  its  gettin'  tire- 
some. First  good  sight  I  have  of  him.  Miss 
Thorn,  he  gets  this/' 

Myra's  heart  had  given  a  great  leap,  but  the 
outlaw  never  guessed. 

"  Poor  man,"  she  said  lightly.  "  Sheriffs  are 
usually  good  shots,  though.  Suppose  he  happens 
to  see  3^ou  first?  " 

Hardeman  picked  up  his  weapon  and  restored 
it  to  its  place  before  meeting  her  smiling,  indif- 
ferent glance.  "  In  that  case  I'm  afraid  you'll 
find  this  a  very  lonely  mesa,"  he  returned  mock- 
ingly. 

Her  hopes  dropped  again  despairingly,  but 
outwardly  she  only  shrugged  her  shoulders  at 
him.  "  Horrors.  Kill  twenty  sheriffs  rather 
than  that.  Your  mesa  is  not  a  nice  place,  and 
I'm  afraid  they'd  never  find  me." 

His  bold  admiration  of  her  increased  as  he 
watched  her,  his  eyes  flashing  through  the  black 
cloth  which  still  hid  his  upper  face.  He  liked 
courage ;  and  this  graceful  moonlit  statue  beside 


96  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

the  boulder,  which  was  his  by  the  law  of  might 
to  use  as  he  pleased,  had  it. 

''  Say,  I  like  you  better  and  better  every  min- 
ute," was  the  unexpected  ansAver,  delivered  with 
unwelcome  ardor.  "  Don't  you  worry  about  the 
Sheriff.  He  ain't  goin'  to  leave  you  lonesome  on 
this  mesa.  Not  much.  In  just  about  two  days 
from  now  there  won't  be  any  Sheriff  of  Wasco." 

Swaggering,  he  crossed  in  two  strides  the 
space  between  them  and  laid  his  hand  on  her 
arm. 

"  I  haven't  had  any  dinner.  Aren't  you  for- 
getting? "  said  Myra  desperately? 

"  Why,  thunder — so  I  was,"  he  laughed  gruffly, 
recovering  himself.  "  Well,  there's  plenty  of 
time.  We'll  have  supper  and  make  love  after- 
wards— eh?  " 

Hospitably  he  scurried  around  and  built  a  fire 
on  the  farther  side  of  one  of  the  great  boulders, 
roasted  some  meat  and  carved  it  for  her  with  his 
hunting  knife,  all  the  time  making  merrj^  over 
the  hotel  service  on  the  mesa. 

"  Got  to  keep  our  light  from  being  seen  from 
the  pass,"  he  explained  frankly.  "  Some  of  your 
friends  might  be  there  an'  want  to  investigate." 

Myra's  heart  gave  such  a  leap  that  it  almost 
smothered  her,  but  she  took  her  courage  in  both 
hands  and  said  quietly : 

"  And  if  they  should  of  course  you'd  lose  your 


THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO.  97 

ransom."  She  smiled  daringly,  half  understand- 
ingly  at  him.  '^  How  much  are  you  going  to  ask 
for  me?  Poor  father,  he'd  pay  anything,  I 
guess." 

For  a  second  or  two  he  gazed  at  her  incredul- 
ously. Then,  grasping  her  arm,  he  bent  forward 
and  stared  with  his  smouldering  wicked  eyes 
deep  down  into  hers,  his  face  twitching  beneath 
his  mask.  ''  Ransom,"  he  said  in  a  growling 
laugh,  as  he  kicked  out  the  embers  of  the  dying 
fire,  ''  Ransom— Hell! '' 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  STRANGER. 


The  news  of  the  abduction  travelled  with  cel- 
erity to  Hilltown.  As  the  stage  dashed  by  the 
foot  of  the  hill  the  driver  raised  the  alarm  in  a 
voice  that  carried  to  the  settlement  above,  and 
men  came  pouring  down  to  the  road  to  join  in  the 
chase  after  the  runaway. 

Cutting  through  the  forest,  they  headed  the 
animals  at  a  distant  turn  and  stopped  them  with- 
out difficulty;  and  then  the  facts  quickly  became 
public  property. 

The  woman  and  her  injured  husband  were  soon 
found,  and  willing  hands  carried  the  wounded 
man  to  the  settlement,  while  a  body  of  wood- 
men started  after  the  highwayman  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  he  had  disappeared  with  his  cap- 
tive. 

Messengers  were  dispatched  to  inform  the  pa- 
trol. When  Butts  heard  the  news  and  delivered 
it  to  his  men  there  was  tremendous  activity  for  a 
few  minutes.  Revolvers  were  loaded  and  drop- 
ped in  position  at  each  man's  side,  and  carbines 

98 


THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO.  99 

rattled  as  their  owners  looked  to  their  magazines 
to  be  sure  that  everything  was  in  exact  working 
order. 

Shots  were  fired  and  red  light  burned  to  sum- 
mon the  members  of  the  day  shift  who  had  not 
yet  returned  to  camp.  The  fire  signals  cast  a 
deep  red  hue  against  the  Olympics,  flaring  high 
in  the  sky  and  visible  for  miles  around,  Vv^hile  the 
shots  reverberated  through  the  foothills  with 
sharp  staccato  voices. 

In  answer  to  the  emergency  signals  never  be- 
fore used,  and  dreaded  by  all  the  men,  they  came 
running  from  far  and  near.  Instinctively  they 
felt  that  it  was  something  to  do  with  the  outlaw 
of  whom  so  much  had  been  said  recently.  When 
they  found  that  Myra  Thorn  had  been  taken 
away,  deep  curses  and  cries  for  vengeance  came 
from  their  throats,  and  they  joined  the  others 
with  vindictive  alacrity,  although  they  were  al- 
ready well  tired  out  by  the  day's  work. 

A  few  hurried  explanations  and  commands 
from  Butts,  and  the  men  were  away  for  the  long 
chase.  A  couple  of  patrolmen  and  the  two  China- 
men were  left  behind.  The  Orientals  were  anx- 
ious to  stay,  they  freely  confessed  it,  for  they 
were  scared  brown  by  the  knowledge  of  what  had 
happened. 

The  two  other  men,  however,  s'wore  oaths  that 
were  long  and  choice  w^hen  Butts  ordered  them 


100  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

to  remain  behind  and  guard  the  cabin.  Their 
wrath  and  indignation  Avas  finally  appeased  by 
the  promise  that  theirs  would  be  the  honor  of 
stringing  up  the  outlaw  whom  the  posse  con- 
fidently expected  to  lead  back  into  camp. 

Butts  himself  headed  the  main  body  of  men. 
Red-faced  with  excitement,  his  veins  stood  out 
on  his  neck  like  whip  cords.  Jones  headed  an- 
other party.  The  two  divisions  subdivided  into 
groups  of  three  or  four  as  they  approached  the 
scene  of  the  abduction,  after  a  long  and  wearying 
run  that  lasted  until  late  into  the  night.  Then  a 
semi-circle  was  formed  that  covered  a  large  area, 
and  began  to  advance  towards  the  mountains 
above,  for  they  all  believed  that  some  of  the  deep 
gorges  or  great  hidden  caves  would  be  found  to 
be  the  outlaw's  lair. 

Every  man  had  orders  to  capture  him  alive 
if  possible;  to  save  the  girl  at  all  hazards. 
Every  man  was  aware  that  he  himself  would  be 
shot  by  Hardeman  on  sight;  but  they  all  were 
taking  desperate  chances.  They  searched  every- 
where, using  lanterns  when  the  moon  failed  to 
aid  them.  Not  one  of  the  patrol  thought  of  self; 
each  man  thought  of  the  outlaw,  and  first  and 
above  everything  of  the  girl. 

The  woodmen  from  Hilltown  had  formed 
other  parties  and  were  thoroughly  scouring  the 
country.     But  all  attempts  to  discover  the  out- 


THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASVO,  101 

law's  whereabouts  were  destined  to  disappoint- 
ment. 

Morning  came  and  no  trace  of  him.  The 
search  continued  until  every  possible  hiding- 
place  had  been  sought  out  and  examined— that  is 
every  such  place  east  or  north  of  the  mountains. 
The  outlaw  had  vanished  completely.  The  long 
start  he  had  obtained  had  made  his  escape  cer- 
tain. Nobody  had  thought  of  a  possible  flight 
through  the  pass,  into  the  Land  of  the  Silent 
Winds,  for  the  pass  had  never  been  crossed  to 
their  knowledge,  and  it  existed  in  men's  minds 
more  as  a  legendary  locality  than  as  an  actual 
place. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  day  advanced  into  after- 
noon and  still  the  searchers  were  baffled.  The 
opinion  was  now  firm  that  Hardeman  had 
doubled  on  his  tracks  and  carried  his  captive 
away  by  water,  perhaps  south,  perhaps  north  to 
the  Canadian  frontier. 

During  the  afternoon  the  two  patrolmen  who 
had  been  left  behind  at  the  cabin  headquarters 
were  seated  outside  the  door,  watching  the  China- 
men as  they  collected  the  logs  for  the  camp  fire. 
They  were  also  discus-sing  the  progress  of  the 
search,  for  word  had  come  to  them  but  a  short 
time  before  from  Hilltown. 

Bill  Thomas,  the  older  of  the  two  men  had 


102  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

turned  to  his  comrade  and  remarked:  "Dutch, 
it  strikes  me  as  how  they're  wastin'  their  time." 

"  Sure !  That  there  outlaw's  doubled  and 
taken  the  girl  across  Juan  de  Fuca." 

There  was  a  dissatisfied  grunt  from  Thomas, 
w^ho  continued  to  chew  his  tobacco  slowly  and 
ponderously.  Evidently  Dutch  had  not  quite 
chimed  with  his  way  of  thinking.  The  younger 
man  waited  for  an  explanation,  but  not  getting 
any  slowly  enquired : 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  anyway?  " 

"  Darn  fools  talking  about  Juan  de  Fuca,  is 
what's  the  matter  with  me." 

Dutch  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  "  What 
in  the  name  of  thunder  ails  Juan  de  Fuca?  " 

Thomas  got  up  too,  "  Don't  you  know  the 
straits  was  rougher  than  blazes  last  night?  W^ho 
in  the  name  of  a  skunk  cabbage  could  row  a  girl 
aw^ay  in  such  a  seaway?  Could  you,  you  doggone 
idiot?" 

"  Bill  Thomas,  you're  the  conceitedest  ass  this 
side  the  range — but  you're  right  fer  once." 

Both  men  were  galled  and  sick  and  sore  at 
having  been  left  behind,  and  a  fight  had  been 
narrowly  averted  by  Dutch's  timely  diplomacy. 
Thomas  was  deeply  disgusted  and  spitting  out 
his  tobacco  remarked : 

"  San  Juan  de  Fuca  be  blowed.  You're  too 
young  to  have  sense  enough  to  grow  old." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO.  103 

*^  Well  acknowledging  I'm  wrong,  Mr.  Thomas, 
what  is  your  overcrowded  headpiece  evolving? 
What  kind  of  a  theory  are  you  about  to  spit 
out?" 

"  The  Devil's  Pass.'' 

"The  Walk?" 

"  Sure,  you  lightweight.  Hardeman's  fooled 
'em  all.  He's  cut  through  to  t'other  side  o'  the 
mountains. 

"•  Can't  be,  Bill.  Nobody's  ever  cut  through 
the  pass." 

"  That's  no  sign  nobody  can't  get  through.  I'll 
bet  you  Hardeman's  taken  the  girl  to  the  place 
you  and  I  seen  once  from  the  top  of  old  Brown 
Face."  He  indicated  a  giant  peak  in  the  dis- 
tance as  he  spoke,  Dutch  pondered  a  moment 
and  exclaimed  in  awe: 

"  The  Land  o'  Silence!  Where  Chief  Talabam 
said  the  dead  Indians  w^as  moving  around  as 
though  they  was  alive,  but  didn't  make  no 
noise." 

"  Bosh !  you  know^  that's  a  story,  Dutch.  The 
land  is  all  right,  only  it  ain't  been  explored." 

"When  Butts  comes  back  w^e'll  see  w^hat  he 
don't  know  about  chasing  outlaws — eh.  Bill?  " 

"  We  will,  Dutch ; "  assented  Bill  confiden- 
tially "  and  we'll  get  on  the  trail  ourselves,  and 
visit  the  unknown  country  and  catch  Hardeman 
sure." 


104  THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO. 

Both  men  were  good-natured  again.  They  had 
a  scheme  that  promised  results. 

"  I'll  shoot  that  Hardeman  on  sight/'  re- 
marked Dutch  slowly  to  himself. 

"  I'll  bore  the  cuss  from  four  hundred  yards ; 
my  carbine's  a  dandy,"  boasted  Thomas. 

^^  So  are  you  a  dandy  J'  The  words  came  laugh- 
ingly, sarcastically,  teasingW,  from  just  behind 
the  patrolmen. 

Thomas  and  Dutch  wheeled  with  one  accord 
and  faced  the  speaker. 

With  one  arm  he  was  nonchalantly  support- 
ing himself  against  the  edge  of  the  cabin.  His 
face  was  tanned  and  quite  youthful;  he  was  not 
much  over  thirty,  and  his  blue  eyes  beamed 
alertly  under  his  well-formed  brows.  His  lower 
face  was  strong  and  well  shaped,  and  his  mouth 
wore  a  sarcastic  twist.  He  was  clean-shaven 
and  dressed  above  in  a  blue  flannel  shirt  and  a 
well  worn  buckskin  coat,  which  was  flung  back 
on  the  right  side,  so  that  his  hand  rested  on  his 
belt,  quite  near  to  the  handle  of  a  heavy  revolver. 
Bill  and  Dutch  also  noticed  that  a  repeating  rifle 
was  resting  lazily  against  the  log  wall  of  the 
cabin. 

The  unknown's  trousers  were  like  his  coat, 
buckskin,  and  well  worn.  His  chest  was  broad, 
and  showed  a  little  beneath  his  shirt.  On  his 
head  was  an   old  visored   cap,   cocked  saucily 


*'  So  are  you  a  dandy." 


??    / 


Page  lOi 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  105 

backwards,  exposing  a  heavy  head  of  hair  and  a 
bold  forehead. 

He  was  unusually  tall  and  well  built;  and  was 
evidently  enjoying  the  patrolmen's  surprise,  for 
he  chuckled  quite  audibly  as  their  glances  met 
his. 

Noticing  his  coat,  Bill  blurted  out : 

"  Stranger  to  these  regions?  " 

The  new  arrival  bowed  in  mock  seriousness. 
"  Correct !  I  inadvertently  overheard  your  re- 
marks about  Hardeman,  and  how  you  two  were 
ffoino^  to  make  a  sieve  of  him;  so  I  decided  to 
apologize  for  my  apparent  impoliteness  and  get 
on  friendly  terms  with  such  dangerous  men  as 
you." 

Yang  Foo  and  Yang  Ko  were  now  edging  to- 
wards the  kitchen  door.  This  stranger  might  be 
all  right,  but  he  had  a  peculiar  expression,  and 
they  decided  that  caution  was  wise  in  Orientals. 

The  Chinamen  had  both  seen  gun  play.  The 
calmness  of  courage  or  deviltry  that  precedes 
the  instantaneous  movement  of  the  hand  down- 
ward, the  sudden  jerking  of  the  arm  and  the  well- 
nigh  simultaneous  report,  all  were  old  acquaint- 
ances to  them;  and  they  liked  not  the  easy,  in- 
different poise  of  this  stranger. 

They  vanished  into  the  kitchen,  slamming  the 
door  after  them ;  and  then  went  out  of  the  back 
window  and  streaked  for  the  woods  and  Hill- 


106  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

town,  to  tell  of  the  camp's  horrible  visit  from  the 
outlaw. 

Thomas  and  Dutch  made  no  hostile  movement; 
they  knew  better.  The  stranger  was  master  of 
the  situation. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  stranger,"  remarked  Bill, 
"  Make  yourself  at  home." 

The  visitor  grinned :  "  Are  you  really  glad  to 
see  me,  boys; — really?  " 

The  voice  was  quiet  and  euphonious,  and 
Dutch  remarked  in  an  undertone. 

^*  That's  him — and  he's  laughing  at  us.  It's 
the  outlaw." 

"  Sure,"  muttered  Bill,  as  he  uneasily  shifted 
his  position  and  motioned  to  the  stranger  to  sit 
down. 

"  Yes ;  glad  to  see  you  o'  course.  Awful  lone- 
some since  the  patrol  got  after  that  Hardeman." 

The  stranger  was  nearly  laughing  aloud. 
"  You  two  fellows  go  and  join  the  hunt ;  I'll 
watch  camp  for  you.  You  ought  to  have  a  chance 
to  plug  him  from  four  hundred  yards  with  that 
dandy  carbine  of  yours.  And  your  friend  ought 
to  be  allowed  to  kill  him  on  sight." 

Dutch  sat  down ;  and  the  stranger,  seizing  his 
rifle,  moved  quickly  to  a  stone  nearby  and 
perched  upon  it. 

"  You  two  fellows  never  met  Hardeman,  did 
you?  "  he  queried. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  107 

«  Nope/' 

"  Well,  he's  harmless.  He's  a  gentle,  mis- 
judged creature  with  the  world  against  him." 

The  patrolmen  were  getting  decidedly  uneasy. 
The  visitor  was  certainly  enjoying  himself  at 
their  expense.  His  voice  and  his  general  appear- 
ance as  well  as  his  manner  stamped  him  the  out- 
law. 

They  felt  that  they  were  in  the  presence  of  the 
notorious  Hardeman,  and  he  was  up  to  some  of 
his  famous  tricks.  He  was  too  gentlemanly,  too 
oily,  for  comfort. 

The  new  arrival  made  a  sudden  move  with  his 
left  hand  into  his  coat  pocket  and  pulled  out  a 
cigar  case.  Then,  watching  the  two  meanwhile 
as  a  cat  watches  a  mouse,  he  extended  it.  Each 
patrolman  took  a  cigar,  the  first  in  months,  and 
all  three  started  to  smoke  while  the  stranger  be- 
gan to  ask  questions  regarding  the  Devil's  Walk 
and  the  locality  beyond. 

Bill  exchanged  glances  with  Dutch,  and  they 
mentally  decided  to  tell  all  that  they  knew,  and 
to  tell  it  quickly. 

"The  searchers  haven't  gone  to  the  pass?" 
queried  the  visitor  finally. 

"  No,"  answered  Thomas  laconically. 

"Will  you  lead  them  there  tonight?" 

"  No,''  and  Bill  shook  his  head  earnestly. 

"  If  you  don't,  you  can't  use  your  little  car- 


X08  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

bine.  He'll  get  away."  The  visitor  chuckled 
again,  and  rising  to  go,  stepped  backward,  smil- 
ing curiously. 

Somehow  he  tripped,  but  caught  himself  before 
falling;  and  as  he  did  so  he  saw  that  Thomas 
had  profited  by  the  opportunity.  The  patrol- 
man's hand  was  already  on  his  gun,  and  Dutch 
was  launching  himself  forward  with  a  swinging 
blow. 

Quick  as  a  flash,  the  stranger  brought  his  fist 
to  Bill's  neck,  and  the  guardsman  went  down 
like  a  lumbering  ox.  Then  he  turned  and  closed 
with  the  agile  Dutch.  In  a  moment  the  younger 
patrolman  went  spinning  backwards  under  the 
impact  of  a  fearful  blow.  The  visitor  stooped 
over  his  prostrate  victims  and  disarmed  them. 
He  waited  until  each  staggered  dizzily  to  his  feet, 
then  he  tossed  their  weapons  disdainfully  into  a 
gully  nearby. 

"  There,  you  clumsy  fools,  hunt  for  them.  You 
couldn't  catch  Hardeman  if  you  had  him  in  a 
barrel." 

He  bowed  in  mock  solemnity,  and  with  eyes 
twinkling  and  lips  curling  in  sarcastic  enjoyment 
disappeared  into  the  forest. 

"  Why  didn't  you  plug  him?  "  yelled  Dutch  to 
the  older  man.    "  You  had  a  chance." 

"  I  didn't  get  no  chance.     He  saw  me  hand 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  ^YASCO.  109 

reach  for  me  gun  and  then  he  come  like  a  whirl- 
wind. Why  the — didn't  you  shoot  him  instead 
of  trying  to  use  yer  fists." 

Dutch  hunched  his  shoulders.  "  Let's  look  for 
our  guns/'  he  exclaimed  meekly,  and  the  two 
shamefacedly  dropped  into  the  gully  and  began 
a  hunt  for  their  sidearms. 

The  frightened  Chinamen  had  given  the  alarm 
to  several  woodmen  and  these  rushed  to  the 
camp. 

They  found  Bill  and  Dutch  in  the  gully  and 
the  two  patrolmen  were  obliged  to  tell  what  had 
happened.  To  make  their  own  position  less  em- 
barrassing they  gave  a  highly  exaggerated  and 
lurid  description  of  the  terrible  fight,  of  the 
outlaw's  agility,  and  of  their  having  been  over- 
powered by  superhuman  strength.  As  both 
patrolmen  w^ere  strong,  active  men,  the  others 
readily  agreed  that  Hardeman  must  be  every 
bit  as  bad  as  he  had  been  painted. 

"  He  was  just  a-kidding  us  all  the  while,"  ex- 
plained Bill  apologetically,  "  laughing  at  us." 

"  He  can  lick  the  whole  doggoned  patrol,"  as- 
serted Dutch,  "an'  he  don't  need  no  guns 
neither." 

Dismay  seized  the  searchers  when  the  report 
spread  that  the  outlaw  had  visited  the  camp  and 
braved  capture.     Everyone  thought  of  the  girL 


110  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

He  must  have  secreted  her  somewhere  mean- 
while. 

Kedoubled  efforts  were  made  to  find  her;  but 
early  next  morning,  the  second  after  her  dis- 
appearance the  patrol  began  straggling  back  to 
camp,  exhausted  and  despondent.  The  outlaw's 
visit  became  an  engrossing  subject  of  conversa- 
tion immediately. 

"  Yes,"  said  Thomas  to  Butts'  query,  "  he  heard 
us  two  talk  about  how  Hardeman  might  'a  took 
Miss  Thorn  through  the  pass  to  the  Silent  Land 
over  yonder.  Then  he  steps  up  and  appears 
mightily  interested;  wanted  to  know  if  I'd  lead 

vou  there." 

«/ 

"  He  did,  did  he?  He  just  wanted  to  lie  in 
wait  for  us  and  pick  us  off  one  by  one.  The  cuss 
has  got  Miss  Thorn  across  the  mountains,  sure." 

"  Mighty  funny  he  came  back,  though,"  sug- 
gested Jenks,  the  patrolman  from  Oregon.  "  He 
oughter  been  busy  getting  away." 

There  was  silence  around  the  fire.  The  men 
were  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  action  of  the 
outlaw.  The  driver  of  the  stage,  who  had  been 
brought  to  camp,  sat  with  his  face  in  his  hands, 
gazing  hopelessly  at  the  fire. 

Suddenly  Jenks  turned  to  nThomas  and  in- 
quired : 

"  How  was  he  dressed?    How  did  he  look?  " 

"  Ordinary  buckskin  trousers  and  coat  and  a 


TUB  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  Ill 

visor  cap.  He's  as  graceful  and  quick  as  a  cat, 
an'  he's  a  young  cuss;  ain't  over  thirty-three.  He 
talks  educated." 

The  driver  sat  up  and  gazing  thoughtfully  be- 
fore him  said :  "  He  hadn't  no  buckskin  coat, 
and  no  visor  cap  when  he  held  me  up.  He  cer- 
tainly hadn't  no  visor  cap." 

Jenks  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  ^^  A 
visor  cap?  Bill — Dutch — You  smoked  cigars 
with  a  gentleman,  I  tell  you." 

"What  the  dickens?"  growled  Bill. 

"  That's  the  Sheriff  o'  Wasco !  " 

There  was  a  roar  of  surprise  and  doubt  as  the 
men  stood  up  and  surrounded  the  speaker,  who 
continued  enthusiastically :  "  Yes,  it  was  that 
Sheriff  sure.  He's  vouncr  and  he's  full  o'  the 
devil.  He's  over  the  pass  after  Hardeman  by 
this  time.  He  wanted  to  know  if  you  were  com- 
ing, did  he?  All  he  wanted  to  know^  was  if  he 
could  have  the  game  to  himself." 

"  He's  a  cuss,"  yelled  Dutch.  "  He's  a  regiment 
from  Hell  let  loose." 

Unable  to  control  his  excitement  he  thumped 
his  friend  on  the  back,  and  the  two,  who  were 
glad  to  know  they  had  been  licked  by  a  gentle- 
man, bellowed  in  unison. 

"  He's  a  slick  one,  he  is.    He's  a  son  of  a  gun." 
The   others   caught   their  enthusiasm,   and  a 


112  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

raiglity  cheer  rose  through  the  hills  like  the 
roaring  of  wild  animals.  There  was  hope  for 
the  girl.  The  daring  fellow  from  Wasco  was 
close  on  the  trail- 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  NIGHT  ON  THE  MESA. 

The  chill  that  struck  Mjra,  alone  with  her 
captor,  was  not  without  ample  cause. 

The  determination  and  wickedness  in  his  voice 
sounded  like  the  clanging  of  the  door  of  hope. 
The  dying  embers  fled  apart  under  his  heavy  feet 
like  live  things  upon  which  he  was  wreaking  ven- 
geance. Desperately  she  glanced  behind  her  at 
the  cave.  If  there  were  only  a  weapon — a  knife, 
a  stick — anything  with  which  to  defend  herself. 
But  there  was  nothing. 

Almost  instantly  he  strode  back  beside  her,  on 
his  lips  an  evil  yet  tolerant  smile. 

"  Look-a-here  now,  you  want  to  keep  on  the 
right  side  of  me,  and  not  get  me  mad  talkin' 
about  ransom  and  such  doggoned  foolery.  I  ain't 
always  apt  to  be  a  gentleman  when  I'm  mad." 

Myra  looked  at  him  with  white  lips.  "  You  get 
angry  with  me  too  easily,  Mr.  Hardeman.  I  am 
not  used  to  it,  you  know.  If  you  want  me  to  like 
you,  you  must  be  patient  with  me." 

"  Eh?  "  he  thrust  his  hand  under  her  chin  and 

113 


114  THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO. 

raised  her  twitching  face. — '^  Like  me!  You  bet 
1  want  you  to  like  me.  I  wouldn't  take  a  million 
dollars  for  you,  I  think  so  much  of  you.  I'm 
dead  in  love  with  you — see?  been  in  love  with 
you  for  a — for  some  time;  so  I've  brought  you 
off  here  where  I  won't  be  disturbed  in  my  love- 
making.  Ain't  any  of  your  friends  likely  to 
eavesdrop  on  us  here — eh?  Now  you  be  nice 
and  reasonable,  and  you'll  find  Mr.  Hardeman  a 
gentleman,  and  more." 

"  You  planned  all  this — you  made  your  pre- 
parations beforehand?"  the  question  fluttered 
from  Myra's  lips. 

"  Sure,  I  did,  and  I  got  you.  I  always  put  a 
deal  through  when  I  begin  it,"  he  answered  with 
a  boastful  grin. 

Blighted  by  his  sneers,  by  the  sense  of  her  utter 
helplessness,  she  stood  trembling.  He  was  a 
tiger — worse,  oh  far  worse  than  a  tiger.  But 
there  was  only  one  thing  for  her  to  do. 

Taking  a  swift  step  forward — fear  and  hatred 
of  him  in  her  heart,  but  on  her  lips  a  smile  such 
as  she  would  have  given  a  lover — she  laid  her 
hand  with  almost  a  caress  on  his  arm,  and  smiled 
up  at  him. 

"  Mr.  Hardeman,  do  not  judge  me  harshly  to- 
night," she  said  softly  and  beseechingly.  '^  Per- 
haps I  w^as  unfair.  I  had  no — no  idea  you  had 
ever  seen  me  before.     But  I  am  so  tired;  I  am 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  115 

stupid  from  lack  of  sleep  and  that  long  journey. 
You  are  strong.  I  have  never  seen  a  man  as 
strong  as  you.  Be  gentle  to  me.  Show  me  a 
place  where  I  can  sleep,  safe  and  sound  to-night 
— and  tomorrow  you  will  see,"  she  stopped,  catch- 
ing her  breath  in  a  quick  little  laugh — '^  oh  you 
will  see  to-morrow  how^  nice  I  will  be." 

In  his  delight  he  caught  at  her  with  both 
hands,  but  she  swiftly  eluded  him,  laughing.  He 
followed  her,  his  drawling,  insolent  voice  quick- 
ened by  eagerness. 

"  Now  you're  talkin'.  That's  the  way  I  like  a 
woman  to  treat  me."  By  a  dexterous  movement 
he  caught  her  wrist  and  held  her  fast.  "  Damned 
if  I  ain't  in  love  with  you,"  he  laughed  thickly, 
**  and  damned  if  I  don't  make  you  love  me  back. 
I  said  you  were  the  queen.  Supposin'  I  agree  to 
this  scheme  of  yours  to-night  what  do  I  get  for 
it?" 

"  Let  me  go  first,"  said  Myra,  "  I'll  tell  you ;  " 
and  he  released  her. 

"  You  said  you  were  the  Prince  Charming  I 
You  may  kiss  my  hand — if  you  promise,"  and 
she  extended  the  member,  holding  herself  off 
regally  but  graciously. 

Seeing  nothing  but  coquetry  in  her  act  and 
air,  he  laughed,  and  with  a  show  of  high-flown 
gallantry  took  his  payment.     Then,  his  honor 


116  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

being  altogether  too  delicate  to  bear  tlie  strain 
she  was  putting  on  it,  he  snatched  at  her  as  an 
animal  might,  and  kissed  her  violently  on  the 
mouth,  once — and  then  he  added  some  words. 
She  could  not  choose  but  hear,  and  her  cheeks 
flamed  and  her  ears  seemed  to  wither  with  ig- 
nominy as  she  fled  from  him. 

Later  she  lay  extended  on  the  bear-skin,  alone 
in  the  cave  which,  with  boasted  chivalry,  he  had 
abandoned  to  her  use  for  the  night,  and  shud- 
dering looked  back  on  that  foul  precipice  from 
which  she  had  escaped. 

She  had  no  tears.  Wide-eyed  and  full  of  hor- 
ror she  lay  staring  at  the  cave's  entrance  and 
counted  mechanically  the  stars  that  showed  them- 
selves in  the  space.  An  occasional  tremor  shook 
her  body  from  head  to  feet,  but  without  her 
knowledge.  Sometimes  she  raised  her  hand  and 
wiped  her  mouth,  but  the  act  was  more  than  half 
involuntary.  She  was  scarcely  conscious  of  any- 
thing in  the  shock  of  fear  and  loathing  his  words 
had  caused,  except  that  to-morrow — to-morrow — 
she  would  be  able  to  fight  him  off  no  longer.  To- 
morrow he,  the  beast  whom  she  had  hoped  in 
her  ignorance  and  folly  to  control,  would  en- 
slave her  to  his  pleasure  as  doubtless  he  had  en- 
slaved countless  women  before  her. 

There  was  no  hope.    She  had  said  ^  to-morrow  ' 
only  in  the  impulse  of  her  fear — in  the  desire  to 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  117 

delay  him,  and  gain  a  little  respite  for  herself. 
He  knew  there  was  no  hope;  else  he  would  have 
laughed,  and  destroyed  her. 

Miles  away  from  the  den  in  which  she  lay 
watching,  a  dim  blue  mighty  wall  reached  to 
heaven  and  bounded  off  the  night.  That  was  the 
Olympics — her  own  Olympics — and  beyond  them 
her  father  and  friends,  frantic  with  grief,  were 
searching  for  her.  If  they  but  knew,  could  they 
but  guess  what  she  was  suffering — how  they 
would  fly  to  her.  Well  was  it  for  this  dog  of  an 
outlaw  that  he  had  chosen  his  lair  so  wisely. 

She  did  not  think  of  them  much,  however. 
They  belonged  to  the  past.  They  were  a  part  of 
something  that  was  gone.  She  was  now  no  lon- 
ger herself — Myra  Thorn — but  a  woman  reduced 
to  first  principles,  a  hunted,  helpless  animal  to 
whom  all  life  and  sense  were  bound  up  in  the 
coming  of  to-morrow  and  the  hunter. 

As  hour  after  hour  went  by,  and  still  the  same 
white  moonlight  and  utter  silence,  she  began  to 
wonder  whether  he  had  gone  away.  She  had  put 
no  faith  in  his  promise  that  he  would  leave  her 
in  peace  even  for  that  night.  Yet  he  made  no 
sound  or  sign.  Perhaps  even  he  had  honor  of  a 
kind;  she  had  heard  that  a  queer  brand  of  it 
was  said  to  flourish  among  thieves.  The  moon 
was  behind  the  cave,  so  that  the  shadows  of  the 
great  boulders  at  the  entrance  lay  slanting  along 


118  THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO. 

the  grass,  always  in  view;  and  she  knew  noth- 
ing could  move  behind  her  but  the  shadow  of  it 
would  be  thus  projected  and  give  her  warning. 

Her  eyelids  were  growing  fearfully  heavy. 
Even  her  terrible  vigil  could  not  resist  the  peace 
and  utter  quietude  that  reigned. 

She  began  to  find  herself  keeping  watch  in 
dreams  which  were  still  more  menacing  than 
reality.  Starting  from  one  of  these  lapses  some 
time  when  the  moon  was  sinking  she  saw  with 
terror  an  abnormally  long  shadow  of  a  man  stalk- 
ing silently  across  in  her  direction. 

She  was  on  her  feet  w^hen  he  appeared.  It  w^as 
Hardeman,  but  not  in  a  particularly  ferocious 
mood.  He  was  preoccupied,  and  seemed  merely 
to  take  casual  note  that  she  had  not  escaped,  as 
he  stopped  and  looked  in  upon  her.  He  had  not 
come  altogether  on  her  account,  for  while  he 
spoke  to  her  he  was  looking  off  in  another  direc- 
tion. 

"  Thought  you  were  asleep?  ''  he  asked  shortly. 

"  I  w^as'  until  just  a  moment  ago,"  said  Myra. 

Glancing  at  her  fear-stricken  mien  he  gave  a 
sarcastic  grunt  of  a  laugh,  "  Seein'  my  shadow 
you  thought  I'd  lied  to  you,  an'  was  comin'  payin' 
my  addresses  ahead  of  time.  Lie  down  and  go 
to  sleep.  Hardeman's  w^ord  is  as  good  as  the 
President's,  understand.  I'm  goin'  prospectin' 
again  for  a  while  before  breakfast.     Bring  you 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  119 

something  to  eat,  maybe.    When  I  get  back  we'll 
talk." 

However  he  did  not  set  off  immediately  on  his 
prospecting,  but  stood  for  several  minutes  where 
he  w^as,  backed  by  one  of  the  boulders,  looking 
across  the  moonlit  country  towards  the  Olym- 
pics. Gazing  with  all  her  might  Myra  could  de- 
tect no  sign  of  life  or  movement,  though  his  un- 
easiness called  up  the  wildest  hopes. 

"  What  is  it — w^hat  do  you  see  out  there,  Mr, 
Hardeman?  "  she  asked  as  serenely  as  she  could. 

"  Guess  it's  a  lone  babe  in  the  woods,"  he  an- 
swered grimly,  without  turning  his  head.  '*  He's 
lookin'  for  the  way  home,  and  I'm  going  down  to 
show  him.  You  go  to  sleep  again,  or  you'll 
get  hurt,"  he  commanded  roughly. 

In  a  few  seconds  he  vanished  over  the  edge. 

Had  she  been  less  wildly  excited  she  might 
have  felt  a  momentary  admiration.  He  had  not 
hurt  her  yet,  but  that  was  not  weakness ;  only  a 
mere  marvelous  whim  of  his.  He  had  no  weak- 
nesses. Strong  and  swift,  he  was  like  a  big  male 
tiger,  sniffing  some  unknown  danger  afar  off, 
and  stalking  savagely  forth  to  meet  it. 

Left  alone  she  might  have  slept  now  in  safety ; 
but  hope  had  killed  that  effectually.  Gaze  as  she 
might,  however,  she  saw  nothing,  heard  nothing, 
except  the  ghostly  desolate  scenery,  lying  as  it 
had  lain  all  night.    She  dared  not  let  hope  carry 


120  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

her  away.  If  rescue  were  coming,  would  there 
be  no  sound  of  any  kind?  Her  friends  would 
not  sneak  upon  Hardeman  like  thieves  in  the 
night.  There  was  no  voice,  no  light,  no  sound  of 
a  footstep  anywhere.  She  could  not  remain  any 
longer  in  the  cave.  When  the  moon  sank,  she 
came  out  and  wandered  cautiously  about  in  the 
blackness,  listening  intently. 

At  last,  just  before  dawn,  she  heard  a  faint 
shot,  leagues  away,  it  seemed.  No  other  sound 
followed,  and  after  waiting  a  while  she  retreated 
to  the  shelter  of  the  boulders  and  stood  there 
trembling.  What  did  that  shot  portend?  Was  it 
her  friend,  or  Hardeman,  who  had  fallen?  For 
there  was  no  doubt  now  that  some  friend — it 
might  be  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  himself — had  dis- 
covered the  trail  and,  single-handed  perhaps,  at- 
tempted a  rescue. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  DOUBTFUL  IDENTITY. 

The  darkness  gradually  paled  before  the  dawn, 
and  objects  around  grew  faintly  visible  as  she 
remained  there  waiting,  half  benumbed  with  anx- 
iety. At  last,  though  she  had  seen  no  one  ap- 
proach, the  rustle  of  footsteps  passed  around  the 
boulder,  and  looking  up  she  saw,  or  thought  she 
saw,  instead  of  a  friend,  only  the  figure  she 
feared  and  hated. 

He  had  lost  the  mask  apparently,  so  she  saw 
his  face  for  the  first  time,  and  perceived  with  a 
shock  how  shrewd  and  clear  and  pleasant  it  w^as. 
Not  the  face  she  would  ever  have  associated  with 
a  bad  man.  But  his  look  of  triumph  was  un- 
mistakable. Plainly  he  expected  her  to  welcome 
him  back  from  his  deed  of  blood. 

She  shrank  in  an  agony  of  fear. 

"You — ^you — have  you — killed  him?" 

His  face  instantly  fell,  first  to  amazement,  then 
to  doggedness. 

"  No,  I  ain't ! — Sorry  to  say  it.  But  he  won't 
intrude  on  you  any  more,  not  for  the  present,  I 
guess. — Thought  you  wanted  him  killed." 

121 


122  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

He  was  highly  offended  at  her  reception  of 
him  after  his  proved  valor — in  chasing  off  the 
Sheriff  of  Wasco  presumably.  Poor  Myra  had 
learned  by  past  experience  not  to  provoke  his 
anger. 

"  Oh,  I  hate  killing  people — sheriffs  or  no 
sheriffs,"  she  explained  piteously,  "■  I  heard  the 
shot,  and  I  didn't  know —  It's  been  terrible  wait- 
ing up  here."    She  strove  to  smile. 

Every  expression  of  which  a  man's  face  is 
capable  flashed  across  his  in  the  space  of  one 
second,  to  be  displaced  by  a  look  of  pity  and 
pleasant  tenderness. 

"  You're  all  tuckered  out.  It  has  been  tough  on 
you,  hasn't  it?"  he  remarked  solicitously.  Then 
he  smiled  quickly.  "  Oh  say — you  an'  I  oughter 
be  real  good  friends  now,  hadn't  we?  "  Taking  a 
step  toward  her  he  had  almost  laid  his  hand  on 
her  shoulder,  but  in  her  horror  at  the  man  and 
his  deeds,  she  shrieked  and  fled  backward  pre- 
cipitately. 

'^  Oh  no — don't ;  don't,  please !  I  mean — "  she 
stopped,  seeing  he  did  not  pursue — "  don't  be  an- 
gry. I'm — I'm  nervous,  you  know,  that's  all," 
she  smiled  conciliatingly.  "'  It's  been  so  dreadful 
since  you  went." 

He  did  not  wax  brutal.  Perhaps  the  defeat  of 
his  chief  enemy  had  put  him  in  better  temper. 
He  merely  gave  her  a  short  but  comprehensive 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  123 

look;  then  he  pulled  off  his  visored  cap  with  a 
sweep  and  retreated  around  the  boulder,  remark- 
ing: 

"  As  you  like  ma'am,  exactly!'^ 

Palpitating  with  relief  and  dread  she  heard 
him  set  quietly  about  making  a  fire. 

Myra's  thoughts  whirled  about  with  bewilder- 
ing rapidity  for  the  next  fifteen  minutes,  during 
which  she  enjoyed  a  quite  royal  privacy.  The 
only  intrusion  on  it  indeed  was  his  rifle,  which 
he  had  left  carelessly  propped  against  the  rock. 
Myra  ceased  questioning,  and  pounced  upon  it 
joyfully.  He  had  carried  no  such  weapon  this 
morning.  Undoubtedly  it  had  belonged  to  that 
poor  unfortunate  Sheriff  of  Wasco,  who  had  been 
trying  to  save  her. 

The  next  insult  Hardeman  offered  her,  he 
should  pay  for  with  his  life,  provided  that  gun 
was  loaded.  And  in  an  instant  she  had  satisfied 
herself  that  it  w^as. 

In  fifteen  minutes  she  found  him  again  con- 
fronting her  with  a  tin  cup  full  of  water,  in 
which  he  signified  that  she  was  to  wash. 

"  Thought  you  might  like  to  get  some  of  this 
mesa  off  of  you.  Breakfast  is  ready,"  he  re- 
marked. 

Apparently  he  expected  to  hold  the  cup  and 
empty  it  over  her  hands.     But  she  willed  other- 


124  THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO, 

wise.     She  wanted  privacy  while  she  arranged 
her  thoughts  of  him. 

What  amazing  change  had  passed  on  him  since 
the  night?  His  attitude  had  altered  somehow, 
oh,  so  beneficently.  He  actually  obeyed  her — as 
other  men  did.  He  was  no  more  that  growling, 
surly  ruffian  of  last  night  and  this  morning  than 
— well,  than  he  was  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  himself. 
As  he  was  now  she  could  control  him,  she  was 
certain.  Full  of  hope,  she  sallied  around  the 
boulder  to  breakfast,  determined  to  be  dignified 
and  gracious,  and  began  at  once. 

"  Thank  you  so  much,  Mr.  Hardeman,  for  the 
water.  It  certainly  was  a  treat.  Where  did  you 
get  it?" 

It  took  him  an  extraordinary  length  of  time 
to  answer  such  a  simple  question. 

"  Just  down  there,''  he  said  indefinitely  at  last. 
*^  I'll  get  you  some  more  any  time  you  say  so, 
ma'am." 

Myra  pinched  herself  surreptitiously  to  pre- 
clude any  danger  that  she  was  dreaming.  This 
was  too  beautiful  for  real  life. 

"  I've  never  seen  you  really  till  this  morning," 
she  pursued.  "  You  seem — do  you  know,  you 
seem  to  be  almost  another  man?  Don't  wear 
that  mask  again,  will  you  please?- "  she  added 
w^ith  a  touch  of  entreaty. 

There  was  a  long  pause.    He  had  ceased  avec 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  125 

to  eat,  and  was  regarding  her  with  a  straight, 
disconcerting  stare  which  at  first  she  took  for 
anger,  till  she  caught  a  certain  shrewd,  keen, 
and  humorous  gleam,  instantly  suppressed. 

"  No  ma^am,  I  certainly  won't,"  he  said  with 
decision.  Sticking  his  knife  in  the  earth  while 
he  waited  on  her  he  went  on  quickly : 

"  You  think  I'm  another  man?  Well  now,  I 
am.  I've  been  thinking  a  whole  lot,  and  I'm 
going  to  ask  your  pardon  if  I've  scared  you  and 
treated  you  bad.  Guess  you've  been  having 
rather  a  hard  time  of  it,  and  to  make  up  I'm  go- 
ing to  take  you  right  back  home  after  breakfast." 
He  paused  and  meeting  her  incredulous  eyes, 
smiled  benevolently,  "  provided  you're  willing,  of 
course,"  he  added  slowly. 

"  Are  you  making  fun  of  me,  Mr.  Hardeman?  " 
almost  whispered  poor  Myra. 

"Making  fun  o'  you?"  he  echoed  with  vehe- 
mence. "  May  Hardeman  be  hanged  if  I  am, 
Miss  Thorn." 

Tone  and  look  were  alike  so  convincing  and 
satisfactory,  that  Myra  had  the  fight  of  her  life 
to  keep  from  bursting  into  childish  crying  under 
his  very  eyes.  Being  an  outlaw,  however,  he 
might  change  again  at  any  instant. 

"  Then  w^e'U  start  at  once ;  I  don't  want  any 
breakfast,"  she  said,  rising  hastily.  "  Thank  you, 
very  much.    Father  '11  give  you  money — I  won't 


126  THE  SHERIFF  OF  ^VASCO, 

forget  that,  on  the  whole,  you've  been  rather 
good — ''  Here  her  voice  gave  out,  and  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  but  she  smiled  sweetly  in  de- 
fault, and  the  man,  after  one  glance  at  her,  sud- 
denly assumed  the  look  of  a  deep-dyed  culprit. 

"  I  guess  I'm  one  of  those  fellows  the  fool- 
killer  missed  last  year,  ma'am,"  he  said,  with  a 
queerly  hesitating,  apologetic  smile.  Myra  made 
no  answer.  "  But  I'll  sit  through  this  game  now. 
Take  my  advice — don't  waste  any  of  your  kind 
thoughts  on  Hardeman.  As  for  your  father's 
money,  he  knows  better  than  to  waste  it." 

Myra  only  shook  her  head  doubtfully  and  van- 
ished behind  the  boulder,  from  which  she  quickly 
reappeared,  more  composed,  and  carrying  the 
rifle  with  rather  a  final  air. 

"  You  have  a  very  good  side,  Mr.  Hardeman 
— and  perhaps  you  haven't  had  the  opportunities 
of  most  men.  But  if  you'll  only  promise  me 
to  reform  I'll  do  everything  I  can  to  persuade 
the  Governor  to  pardon  you,"  she  observed  with 
grateful  eyes  and  the  merest  hint  of  condescen- 
sion. 

''  Thank  you  kindly !  "  It  disturbed  her  that 
he  actually  smiled  in  amusement;  but  it  was  far 
worse  to  have  him  lay  his  hand  arrestingly  on 
the  rifle. 

"  I'll  carry  that  gun,  if  you  please.  I  can  shoot 
faster  than  you.    If  you're  afraid  of  me — "  he 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  127 

loosed  his  big  Colt  from  its  place  and  handed 
it  to  her.  "  Better  not  ask  the  Governor  to 
pardon  me  yet,  jou  see." 

His  eyes  were  twinkling  with  kindly  sarcasm, 
and  Myra  meeting  them,  took  the  revolver  with- 
out a  word,  and  they  began  the  long  journey 
homeward. 

Explanation  of  the  wondrous  change  that  had 
come  about  in  him  was  quite  beyond  her,  tired 
as  she  was.  The  blessed  feeling  that  she  need 
not  fear  him,  all  strange  and  inexplicable 
though  it  was,  grew  and  robbed  her  of  the  stimu- 
lus that  had  sustained  her,  and  she  became  like 
a  tired  child  in  his  hands. 

The  descent  from  the  mesa  she  could  never 
have  made  alone.  But  he  helped  her,  directing, 
guiding  her  feet,  holding  her,  all  with  such  fine 
courtesy  that  she  forgot  to  dread  his  arms.  She 
had  no  alternative  indeed  about  accepting  his 
help,  for  without  it  she  would  have  broken  her 
neck. 

All  through  the  morning  he  seemed  driven  by 
the  desire  to  atone  to  her,  and  Myra  tacitly  set- 
tled it  in  her  own  mind  that  it  w^as  for  his  past 
wickedness.  She  had  not  suspected  he  could  be 
so  sensitive  on  the  point,  nor  show  it  by  sur- 
rounding her  with  such  fine  delicate  care.  The 
old  Hardeman  had  dragged  her  ruthlessly 
through  and  over  obstacles,  but  this  one  care- 


128  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

fully  removed  them  from  her  path.  She  set 
the  pace  now,  not  he ;  and,  half  stupid  with  sleep 
and  weariness  as  she  was,  the  way  seemed 
strangely  easier. 

One  thing  was  certain.  He  was  the  most  fear- 
less man  she  had  ever  imagined.  Although  his 
chief  enemy,  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco,  must  be  lurk- 
ing somewhere  in  the  vicinity,  and  although 
every  step  brought  her  nearer  to  her  friends, 
who  would  give  him  short  shrift  once  they  laid 
hands  on  him,  he  was  quite  undaunted.  Quite 
evidently  he  found  a  kind  of  daredevilish  enter- 
tainment in  his  situation.  At  times,  Myra  sus- 
pected, in  her  also. 

At  dinner  time  he  chose  the  softest  and  most 
desirable  spot  possible,  and  seated  her  in  it. 
He  gave  her  food,  and  fetched  water  for  her 
in  the  tin  cup,  and  then  seated  himself  at  her 
feet,  but  a  little  way  off. 

"  Do  you  know  you're  very  queer?  The  Sheriff 
of  Wasco  is  round  here  somewhere,  and  I  don't 
believe  you've  given  him  a  thought  since  this 
morning.    Don't  you  fear  him?"  she  asked. 

"Do  you?" 

"  Well,  hardly.  He's  my  friend.  But  you — I 
should  think  under  the  circumstances  you'd  feel 
rather  uneasy." 

"  So  should  I,  Miss  Thorn."  Pausing  he 
smiled  at  her,  the  same  sharp,  quizzing  smile 


THE  &HERIFF  OF  WASCO.  129 

which  had  accompanied  his  gift  of  the  revolver. 
''  I'll  tell  jou  something  that's  true  as  the  gos- 
pel," he  said  confidentially,  "  There's  only  one 
genuinely  uneasy  man  anywhere  in  this  vicinity 
— and  he's  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco." 

Myra  laughed  resentfully.  "You're  fairly 
cool.  That's  his  rifle  you've  got  there,  I  sup- 
pose, so  you  feel  safe." 

"Yes,  ma'am,  that's  his  rifle;  and  I  do  feel 
sorter  safe  as  you  say!"  In  spite  of  herself 
Myra  liked  the  ring  of  his  voice,  the  twinkle  of 
his  smiling  eyes.  She  might  have  felt  a  pre- 
monition of  a  mistake  somew^here.  But  she  got 
no  further  than  a  vague  wonder  at  him.  Such 
a  psychological  problem  as  he  offered  was  quite 
beyond  her  in  her  present  befogged  state  of  mind 

The  meal  over,  he  presented  once  more  the 
over-worked  tin  cup,  kneeling  on  one  knee  for 
her  convenience. 

"We're  at  Delmonico's  in  New  York.  This 
here's  your  finger  bowl.  Miss  Thorn,  and  I  am 
your  humble  waiter,"  he  said  smiling,  but  with- 
out special  humility. 

"  I  think  you  must  be  Dr.  Jekyll,"  said  Myra, 
rinsing  her  fingers.  "  Why,  oh,  why  are  you 
so  kind  to  me  now?  You  make  me  dread  the 
moment  w^hen  Mr.  Hyde  will  come  back." 

He  threw  away  the  w^ater  behind  him,  but 
did  not  alter  his  attitude,  while  with  wonder- 


130  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

ful  quickness  the  smile  changed  to  a  look  of  in* 
dignant  concern.    His  voice  was  low  but  sharp. 

"  Was  that  villain  really  bad  to  you?  " 

''That  villain f^^  repeated  Myra  in  doubt. 

"  Yes — that  I  was  to  you ;  Mr.  Hyde  you 
know^/'  he  supplemented  quickly. 

At  this  question  a  rush  of  memory,  memory 
of  the  night  before,  suffused  the  girPs  face  with 
a  w^ave  of  outraged  color. 

"  You  certainly  ought  to  know,"  she  said 
coldly,  and  rising  turned  from  him. 

But  there  was  no  villainy  in  the  anger  w^nich 
her  flushed  face  had  called  into  his,  as  he 
watched  her  choose  another  seat  for  herself  fur- 
ther removed  from  his  plainly  dreaded  vicinity. 
Smarting  and  chagrined  he  instinctively  picked 
up  his  rifle,  but  it  was  no  help  to  him. 

"  So — damn  his  soul ! — that  accounts  for  her 
keeping  the  revolver,"  he  remarked  softly.  "  He 
must  have  treated  her  outrageously.  I'm  a 
double-dyed  jackass." 

He  started  after  her  with  purpose  on  his 
brow.  But  he  checked  himself  as  suddenly. 
When  he  came  up  to  her  the  old  courteous  smile 
was  restored,  though  some  sign  of  effort  was  vis- 
ible. 

"  Miss  Thorn,"  he  explained,  standing  bare- 
headed and  straight  before  her,  "  Dr.  JekyJl,  as 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO  131 

you'll  remember,  took  no  stock  in  that  partner 
of  his,  that  man  Hyde.  I'm  in  his  case  exactly, 
you  see.  I'd  wring  Hyde's  neck  with  the  great- 
est of  pleasure.  I  despise  the  dog, — but  I  have 
no  recollection  of  his  doings  lately.  Miss  Thorn, 
if  you  see  the  least  symptom  of  his  return  about 
me,  I'll  ask  you  please  to  shoot  me  dead." 

Poor  Myra!  She  believed  she  had  monstrous 
cause  for  offense  at  him — but  here  he  was  in- 
viting her  to  ^hoot  him  dead.  And  whatever  he 
had  been,  plainly  she  had  no  need  now  to  fear 
him.  She  stood  wavering  for  an  instant,  but 
finally  answered  with  a  cold  flicker  of  a  smile: 

"  Thank  you.  Dr.  Jekyll— I  believe  I  will." 

Quite  gravely  he  replaced  his  cap.  Raking 
together  a  little  mound  of  pine  cones  and  dry 
brush  he  took  off  his  coat  and  fashioned  a  pillow 
in  the  shade. 

"  I  suppose  you  won't  believe  me  now,  but  I'll 
stake  my  head  you're  in  no  danger  from  Hyde 
or  any  other  low  sneaking  w^olf  while  I'm  here 
to  guard  you. — I'd  like  it  real  well  if  you'd 
rest  a  little,"  and  he  waved  his  hand  simply  to- 
ward his  arrangements. 

Unless  she  was  going  to  make  herself  need- 
lessly ridiculous,  there  was  no  way  of  resent- 
ing his  mild  air  of  authority.  Wondering 
peevishly  what  next  she  would  do  at  his  bid- 
ding, Myra  walked  over  like  a  school-girl  to  the 


132  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

place  and  lay  down,  pillowing  her  tired  pretty 
head  docilely  on  his  coat. 

She  needed  the  rest  dreadfully ;  but  she  would 
not  close  her  eyes  for  one  second,  she  stubbornly 
determined.  If  he  took  her  for  such  a  fool  as 
that,  he  was  well  mistaken.  Not  all  his  pretend- 
ing and  clever  juggling  with  character  could 
blind  her  to  w^hat  he  w^as  at  heart.  How  long 
was  this  precious-  goodness  of  his  going  to  last, 
indeed?  Absolutely  no  telling;  and  if  he  should 
break  out  again,  the  last  end  would  be  worse 
than  the  first,  very  likely. — And  there  was 
still  the  night,  for  they  could  not  reach  her 
home  till  the  next  day.  How  could  she  face  an- 
other night  alone  in  these  awful  wilds  with  him. 

For  such  an  abandoned  wretch,  however,  he 
could  present  an  admirable  assumption  of  inno- 
cence. His  back  was  turned  on  her,  and  kneel- 
ing in  the  blazing  sun,  he  was  innocuously  en- 
gaged in  dipping  his  head  in  the  spring,  whence 
he  had  brought  the  water  in  that  humorous  tin 
cup  of  his.  A  most  misleading  badge,  by  the 
way,  every  thing  considered.  Oh,  it  was  a  pity 
he  was  not  on  the  stage,  where  his  acting  and 
his  splendid  ability  to  masquerade  as  something 
which  he  was  not  might  be  turned  to  some  use- 
ful account. 

For  the  first  time  Myra  regarded  him  with 
normally  critical  eyes.     She  had  thought  him  a 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  133 

heavier,  bulkier  man,  but  now  bis  figure  re- 
vealed a  springiness,  a  virile  ease  of  movement 
truly  graceful.  She  could  see  the  water  glisten- 
incf  on  bis  bair  and  sun-burned  neck.  What  a 
queer  assurance  of  beneficent  manly  strength 
radiated  from  bis  person !  A  month  ago  she 
would  have  trusted  him  on  sight  as  a  man  who«e 
strength  would  be  her  absolute  safeguard. 

He  was  handsome.  Full  of  sleepy  resentment 
at  it,  she  admitted  the  fact.  He  had  really  fine 
features.  The  landscape  was  beginning  to  swim ; 
dreams  were  taking  the  place  of  thoughts.  If 
he  should  really  be  the  good  man  he  pretended 
to  be!  He  should  not  be  wicked  with  that  face! 
One  heard  tales  of  dual  personalities — sup- 
pose Hardeman  and  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  were 
one  and  the  same  person.  How  funny — if  this 
was  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  all  the  time,  this  same 
Hardeman — and  no  one  knew  it  or  suspected 
it  but  herself!  With  this  airy  fancy  Myra  lost 
the  thread,  and  slipped  away  into  utter  uncon- 
sciousness. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   RETURN   JOURNEY. 

She  slept  cireamlessly,  never  moving  a  muscle 
or  raising  one  of  her  dark  eyelashes  for  some 
hours'.  Outlaw  or  sheriff — whatever  he  was, 
he  had  ceased  to  exist  for  her. 

He  discovered  this  state  of  affairs  after  it  had 
lasted  about  ten  minutes,  and  picking  up  his 
rifle  he  advanced  cautiously.  Amusement  and 
a  certain  manly  tenderness  and  solicitude  strove 
for  mastery  in  his  face  as  he  halted  about  five 
feet  off  from  her  and  there  observed  her  for  the 
first  time  at  his  leisure. 

He  was  troubled  with  no  false  modesty.  She 
was  no  longer  awake  to  snub  him  with  those 
brilliant  blue  eyes  of  hers,  so  he  looked  his  fill 
upon  her  beauty;  and  as  he  noted  the  lovely 
weary  fling  of  her  body,  her  cheek  and  dark 
wind-tossed  head  resting  in  tired  confidence 
upon  his  coat,  his  amusement  died  away  slowly. 
Was  it  fatigue  that  made  her  mouth  so  sweet, 
he  wondered.  As  she  lay  there  in  her  utter  aban- 
don of  fatigue  and  dependence  she  was  a  sight 

134 


THE  SHERIFF  OF   WASCO.  135 

to  stir  any  man  to  his  centre,  and  the  response 
she  called  into  the  brown  keen  face  of  this  man 
was  unworthy  of  the  great  outlaw  Hardeman. 
Had  Myra  been  awake  she  would  have  guessed 
the  truth.  He  clutched  his  rifle  with  a  grim 
gesture,  and  his  gray  blue  eyes  turned  away  and 
swept  the  wide  valley  with  indignant  vengeful 
intent. 

Soon  he  fonnd  it  warm  standlu:^  there  with 
the  noonday  sun  shining  full  upon  him,  and 
moved  to  a  point  in  shadow  whence  he  could  ob- 
serve both  Myra  and  the  landscape  with  equal 
facility. 

Still  it  was  impossible  but  that  she  would  in- 
terfere with  his  vision  somewhat.  They  v.ere 
alone  upon  a  wild  mountain  side,  he  a  brown 
3^oung  Westerner,  filled  to  his  finger-tips  with 
the  vigor  and  fire  of  life,  and  she  a  lovely  woman, 
his  ward,  sleeping  at  his  feet  in  utter  depend- 
ence on  him. 

Her  dress  had  suffered  in  her  late  experience. 
The  sleeve  of  muslin  and  lace  w^as  torn  almost  to 
the  shoulder,  and  the  white  arm  within  lay  half- 
revealed  in  the  languor  of  sleep,  caressed  by  flick- 
ering leaf  shadovrs  and  full  of  warm  fugitive 
tints.  Invisible  tender  threads  radiated  from 
it  to  the  sentry's  eyes  and  drew  them  again  and 
again  from  the  horizon  and  his  duty. 

''  What  the  deuce  was  he  about  to  tear  her 


136  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

dress  like  that?"  he  soliloquized  in  a  fierce 
whisper.  ''  Wish  I  could  get  just  one  good 
hold  of  him — and  daylight.  I'd  settle  this  ac- 
count o'  hers  on  his  dog's  hide  right  off,  before 
we  come  to  Jeff's  business."  Stirred  by  the 
strength  of  his  wrath  he  fingered  the  rifle  yearn- 
ingly but  unconsciously. 

But  varying  with  all  other  emotions  a  look  of 
perplexity  was  gradually  creeping  across  his 
face.  Once,  when  after  a  long,  thoughtful  scru- 
tiny of  the  horizon  his  gaze  returned  to  Myra,  it 
turned  to  one  of  dismay. 

"  How  am  I  goin'  to  get  myself  out  of  this 
here  mess  anyway?  Doggone  it,  it's  gettin'  seri- 
ous. I've  been  a  smart  Alec.  That's  about  what 
I've  been.  An'  plumb  in  the  wrong  place. 
She'll  never  speak  to  me  again."  He  looked 
down  at  Myra  with  conviction,  and  grunted  im- 
patiently. "  Serve  me  right.  I've  no  use  for  a 
fool  myself." 

From  the  unpleasantness  of  this  conclusion 
he  could  find  no  comfort  apparently;  so  he  took 
refuge  after  another  interval  in  natural  stub- 
bornness. 

"  Face  it  out,  that's  the  best  way.  Get  her 
safe  home,  and  never  let  on  about  the  change  of 
identity.  What's  the  use?  I've  got  no  right  to 
think  about  love-making  with  poor  Jeff  down 
there  in  Wasco  waitin'  to  hear  from  me.    Any- 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  137 

way — a  poor  devil  of  a  sheriff  would  stand  no 
chance  with  such  a  girl  as  that."  He  squared 
himself,  and  looked  sternly  beyond  a  strand  of 
soft,  dark  hair  which  the  zephyrs  had  snared 
upon  a  button  of  his  coat  beneath  her  head.  He 
swore  softly  into  the  zephyrs.  ''  Tomorrow  I'll 
go  after  Hardeman  I  I'll  have  that  satisfaction 
at  least." 

His  attention,  however,  came  back  quickly  to 
that  button  on  his  buckskin  coat.  The  lock  of 
hair  still  waved  there,  darkly  bright,  and  the 
rest  of  it  lav  across  her  body  in  a  heavy  dis- 
heveled  braid,  just  as  she  had  arranged  it  the 
day  before  at  her  waking  of  loneliness  and  fear 
on  the  mesa.  His  eyes  rested  on  it  till  they  grew 
covetous;  but  he  fled  temptation. 

"  Handed  if  I'll  touch  her  while  she's  asleep. 
The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  ain't  playing  Hardeman 
to  that  extent  quite." 

Once  when  her  heavy  sleep  had  grown  so  deep 
that  even  the  faint  movement  of  her  breathing 
was  imperceptible,  he  approached  quietly.  He 
had  seen  the  phenomenon  in  exhausted  men, 
but  in  her  it  drove  him  to  panic.  His  bronzed 
cheek  reddened  darkly  over  the  sweet  intimate 
outlines  of  her  neck  and  bosom  ere  he  had  satis- 
fied himself  that  she  was  not  dead  from  exhaus- 
tion in  her  sleep;  then  he  backed  off  again  pre- 
cipitately, and  once  more  took  up  his  station  as 


138  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

groom  of  the  bedchamber,  a  fine  fire  alight  in 
the  depths  of  his  ejes  as  they  resumed  their 
watch  for  the  evil-doer. 

When  the  sun  hung  just  above  the  western 
rim  of  the  Pacific  it  was  time  to  awaken  her  and 
continue  their  journey. 

Awakening  ladies  had  not  heretofore  been 
much  in  his  line,  and  for  some  minutes  he  de- 
bated doubtfully  how  to  accomplish  it,  but  fin- 
ally fell  back  on  that  close  friend  and  adviser, 
his  rifle.  Audaciously  near  him,  deceived  per- 
haps by  his  great  stillness,  a  weasel  was  pin- 
ning a  struggling  partridge  to  the  earth.  He 
fired. 

He  had  not  calculated  on  frightening  her  so 
greatly. 

Myra  sprang  up,  sleep  and  terror  battling 
in  her  wide-open  dazed  eyes  as  they  fell  on 
his  smoking  rifle.  A  low^,  horrified  shriek  burst 
from  her. 

"■  Oh,  what  have  you  done? — where  is  he? 
Have  you  killed  him?"  she  cried,  clasping  her 
hands  in  panic. 

''  Killed  whom?  "  he  asked  in  haste. 

'^  Him — the  Sheriff,"  she  whispered,  unable  to 
command  her  voice. 

Dark  red  flashed  into  his  face.  Without  a 
word  he  walked  over  and  picked  up  the  dead 
w^easel,  presenting  it  to  her  with  laconic  apology. 


THE  SHERIFF  GF  WASCO.  139 

"  I  just  wanted  to  waken  you,  ma'am." 

Poor  Mjra's  rapidly  clearing  mind  felt  the 
sharp  sting  of  mortification,  which  his  demeanor 
in  no  wise  helped.  She  would  have  given  any- 
thing to  have  been  a  little  less  hasty  in  express- 
ing her  conclusions,  and  being  herself  in  fault, 
she  naturally  longed  to  punish  him. 

"  Oh — I  see.  Only  a  poor  little  weasel.  But 
of  course  I — killing  things  is  your  strong  point, 
isn't  it? "  With  her  blue  eyes  flashing,  and 
her  cheeks  a  mortified  red,  she  looked  as  un- 
pleasant as  she  possibly  could  with  her  natural 
limitations. 

To  her  irritation,  and  great  relief,  he  made 
no  sort  of  answer.  He  did  not  even  enlighten 
her  that  the  weasel  had  been  doing  its  own 
killing,  but  set  about  preparing  supper  with  an 
air  of  patience.  Last  night  Myra  knew  she 
would  have  been  grossly  insulted.  It  seemed 
almost  worse  to  have  to  take  a  lesson  in  polite- 
ness from  such  a  person. 

She  marched  over  and  seated  herself  on  a 
fallen  losj  beside  the  martvred  weasel.  She 
wished  to  be  queenly,  but  felt  an  annoying  sus- 
picion she  was  only  pert.  Then  too,  her  sud- 
den ill-temper  having  evaporated,  she  was  aware 
of  a  dangerously  strong  sunny  impulse  to 
apologize  for  it  and  be  a  lady. 

What  right  had  he  to  make  her  feel  humili- 


140  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

ated,  first  with  his  weasel  and  then  with  his  as- 
sumed good  manners?  He  ought  to  be  over- 
whelmed with  contrition  for  his  evil  doings,  but 
she  was  not  at  all  certain  that  that  was  the 
root  of  his  present  goodness.  Apology  was  un- 
necessary and  silly,  when  any  one  of  her  men 
friends  would  shoot  him  on  sight.  She  would 
be  polite  to  him,  of  course,  for  the  sake  of  her 
own  dignity  as  well  as  safety.  For  no  other 
reason.  It  was  a  little  late  for  him — an  outlaw 
— to  put  on  the  airs  of  a  gentleman ;  he  deceived 
no  one  but  himself. 

Just  here  she  perceived  by  the  corner  of  her 
eye  that  he  was  about  to  fetch  her  some  water; 
so  she  arose  and,  stately,  walked  down  to  the 
spring  herself,  passing  him  with  a  smile  as 
sweet  and  wintry  as  sunshine  on  arctic  ice. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Hardeman.  It  isn't 
necessary  to  trouble  you  so,''  she  declared;  and 
his  unmistakable  wincing  soothed  her  self-re- 
spect greatly. 

"  He  needn't  think  he  is  imposing  on  me  for 
one  minute.  I  don't  forget  his  other  side,"  she 
reflected.  Involuntarily,  as  the  horrors  of  the 
night  rolled  back  on  her  memory,  she  shuddered : 

"  Mercy,  I  don't  dare  to  forget  it,"  she  whis- 
pered. 

So,  being  well  fortified  in  her  resentment 
against  him,  she  proceeded  to  grace  the  supper 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  141 

he  had  prepared  on  the  log.  He  explained 
apologetically  that  they  had  no  tea,  as  it  was  inr 
advisable  to  light  a  fire  at  present. 

"Of  course.  It  might  betray  you  to  the 
Sheriff/'  Myra  said  with  unnecessary  imperti- 
nence. 

"  Exactly." 

Again  she  felt  rebuked.  He  had  developed  a 
surprising  hauteur,  difficult  to  pass,  but  not 
the  less  attractive. 

"  Miss  Thorn,  I  want  to  give  you  some  advice,'^ 
he  said,  quietly  and  deliberately,  "  Don't  con- 
cern yourself  so  much  about  that  Sheriff.  Some 
day  you'll  meet  him,  and  then  you'll  be  disap- 
pointed. I  know  him.  He  ain't  altogether  the 
man  he  sets  out  to  be." 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  she  exclaimed,  rather  breath- 
lessly, '^  I  haven't  the  pleasure  of  knowing  him ; 
but  perhaps  if  he  were  here  you  might  not  ex- 
press yourself  so  freely  about  him.  In  fact,  I 
don't  think  you  would." 

The  fierce  pleasure  of  insulting  her  compan- 
ion blinded  her  to  discretion  and  to  the  swift 
changes  of  expression  on  his  face. 

"  He  ought  to  be  here,  that  Sheriff.  He  set 
out  to  rescue  you  from  my  clutches,  didn't 
he?" 

"Wait,"  Myra  lauglied  confidently.  "Men 
who  know  him  better  than  you,  say  he  never 


142  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

fails.    You  may  yet  have  the  honor  of  introduc- 
ing us,  Mr.  Hardeman '^ 

She  checked  herself  precipitately.  That  wave 
of  sunburned  red  that  traveled  across  his  face — 
was  it  anger?  How  steady  his  eyes  were.  Her 
own  mocking  ones  dropped  startled,  and  the 
blood  rose  unbidden  in  her  cheeks;  but  when 
she  looked  up  again  his  gaze  was  withdrawn. 

"  Living  alone  in  the  mountains  is  apt  to  give 
a  man  a  touch  of  second-sight.  You'll  meet  the 
Sheriff  some  day.  Do  you  know  what'll  happen 
then?    I'm  going  to  tell  you  if  you  don't  mind.'' 

"  Nothing  especial,  I  fancy,"  she  said  de- 
fiantly.    ''  Why  should  it?  " 

"  Because  it's  so  decreed.  The  Sheriff  of 
Wasco  will  fall  in  love  with — with  a  very 
sweet  woman.    And  then  " — he  stopped  short. 

"  Well?  "  inquired  Myra.    ^^  Go  on,  please." 

"  I've  a  notion  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  will  be  a 
fool  for  his  pains."  Myra  flashed  him  a  bril- 
liant, perplexed  glance,  but  his  face  was  a  wall. 

"  Do  you  feel  rested  enough  to  start  now? 
It's  an  all-night  trail,  you  know.  I'm  afraid 
you're  going  to  be  very  fatigued  again." 

"  Yes,  I'm  ready."  She  was  not  quite  dumb, 
though  nearly  so;  but  an  obscure,  astonished, 
outraged  sense  helped  her  out  and  as  she  arose, 
she  cast  on  him  a  tolerant  smile.  "  Even  at  the 
risk  you  mention,  I  hope  you'll  have  the  chance 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  143 

to  introduce  the  Sheriff  to  me,  Mr.  Hardeman." 

And  her  outlaw  bowed. 

In  the  sunset  they  renewed  their  march  along 
the  mountain-side.  Below  them  lay  the  real 
forest,  its  green  crowns  still  a  sea  of  westerly 
light,  but  with  solemn  dimness  encroaching  up- 
ward from  the  lesser  heights.  Under  their  feet 
many  thousands  of  dead  leaves  and  tangled  col- 
onies of  underbrush  testified  that  here  was  none 
of  the  highways  frequented  of  men. 

Apparently  her  guard  wished  to  retire  into 
his  own  thoughts,  so  Myra  was  left  to  her  own, 
perforce.  One  thing  she  admitted  to  herself. 
She  was  not  afraid  of  him.  She  was  even  com- 
ing to  feel  an  unwilling,  rebellious  sort  of  re- 
spect for  him,  absurd  as  it  was  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. 

When  he  spoke  at  last  it  was  sudden  and  dis- 
concerting. "  There  ought  to  be  plenty  of  snakes 
around  here." 

There  was  a  teasing  gleam  in  his  eye  which 
Myra  failed  to  see.  She  had  the  inborn  horror 
of  women  for  all  the  reptile  family. 

"  Snakes,"  she  cried  stopping  short,  lifting  her 
tattered  skirts  with  a  switch.  "Where?  Why 
didn-t  you  tell  me?  " 

"  Oh,  just  'round  here.  Don't  be  scared.  I'll 
see  them  before  thev  get  a  chance  to  touch  you," 
he  answered  soothingly. 


144  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

"  But  how  do  I  know  you'll  see  them  first? 
Why  didn't  you  tell  me  there  were  snakes  here?  " 
she  demanded  in  utter  distress. 

As  he  looked  at  her,  poised  for  fl^'ght^  her 
cheeks  flushed  again  with  consternation,  the 
slight  hauteur  faded  from  his  face. 

"'  I'm  sorry,  but  I  never  thought  of  it  till  this 
minute.  Don't  worry.  You  shan't  be  hurt,  I'll 
give  you  my  word.    You  see  I'm  so  used " 

"  Oh,  of  course  you  think  I'm  a  perfect  cow- 
ard," protested  Myra,  ^'  but  I'm  nothing  of  the 
kind.  I'm  just  not  going  another  step  on  this 
trail.    We'll  have  to  go  around  some  other  way." 

"  But  there  is  no  other  way." 

^^  Isn't  there?  Oh,  dear!  "  Myra  looked  about 
in  despair.  ''  Well,  I'll  sit  on  the  top  of  that 
rock  then  till  daylight  comes,  if  you'll  help  me 
up,  please.  I  can't  go  on  this  way,  Mr.  Harde- 
man.   I  can't  and  I  won't,"  she  entreated. 

"  Well  but,  look  here,"  he  began  earnestly. 

"  I  can't  and  I  won't,"  she  repeated  feverishly. 
"  Why  I  might  step  on  one  of  the  awful  things 
— and  I  should  simply  die."  Her  voice  was  lost 
in   a   shudder.     '''  Help  me  over  to  that  rock, 

She  would  not  stir  without  him  because  she 
dared  not.  There  was  a  moment's  fearsome 
deadlock  while  they  faced  each  other,  and  the 
young  man's  wits  worked  rapidly. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  145 

"  Well,  a  rock's  a  bad  place  to  choose  anyway. 
You'd  likely  find  two  or  three  families  under 
there  if  you  poked  'round.  If  you'll  stand  here 
just  a  minute  I'll  investigate  a  little." 

"  Oh !  "  shrieked  Myra,  "  — don't !  If  you  do 
— if  you  go  near  that  stone  I'll  never  speak  to 
vou  acain.  What  am  I  to  do?"  She  glanced 
wildly  all  about  her,  but  the  silent  scenery  of- 
fered no  help.  ^'  I  wish — I  wish  I  was  back  on 
the  mesa,"  she  wailed. 

Her  outlaw  resolutely  crossed  the  tiny  wood- 
strewn  space  between  them  and  took  her  hand 
reassuringly. 

"  Miss  Thorn,  I  will  do  all  that  a  man  can  do 
to  protect  you — from  snakes  and  every  other 
peril.  I  promise,"  he  vowed  with  complete  grav- 
ity* ^^  Come,  we'll  go  deeper  into  the  woods;  the 
old  reptiles  love  these  sunny  places,  you  see.  Re- 
member, your  father  and  friends  are  on  the  other 
side,  waiting  for  us." 

"  Oh,  I  remember  it."  She  withdrew  her 
hand,  and  braced  herself  to  meet  the  inevitable. 
"  I'm  going  to  step  on  a  snake,"  she  said  tremu- 
lously. "  But  give  me  a  good  stick.  Now  go  on 
— and  do  be  careful.  Oh,  I  hope  you're  as 
sorry  for  this  dreadful  business  as  you  ought  to 
be,  Mr.  Hardeman,"  she  admonished  the  broad 
back  already  leading  her  into  the  depths  of  the 
forest. 


146  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

Some  hours  more  of  journeying  through  dim 
woodland  recesses,  of  clambering  across  fallen 
trees,  and  forcing  a  way  through  undergrowth 
that  defied  their  passage,  and  the  day-light  fil- 
tering through  the  tree-tops  above  grew  faint 
and  died.  With  the  darkness  a  great  silence 
fell,  a  silence  alive  with  the  sounds  of  unseen 
life.  Yet  Myra's  escort  continued  to  beat  out  his 
way.  But  now  he  gave  evidence  of  haste,  and  he 
had  taken  her  hand  and  w^as  drawing  her  stead- 
ily after  him.  She  w-as  content,  for  the  great- 
ness of  the  forest,  its  dim  aisles  peopled  with  she 
knew  not  what  of  gaunt  shadows  and  prowling 
forms,  was  beginning  to  chill  whatever  of  nerves 
the  snakes  had  left  her.  For  the  hand  of  an  out- 
law, that  hand  with  its  firm,  untroubled  grasp 
inspired  her  with  an  extraordinary  sense  of  pro- 
tection and  companionship. 

After  a  little  they  emerged  upon  a  clear  space, 
a  shallow  ravine  half  filled  up  by  the  ages.  To 
Myra's  eyes  the  forest  receded  indefinitely. 
Welcome  stars  gleamed  upon  her  from  the  deep 
blue  abyss  of  heaven,  and  utter  silence  reigned 
all  about,  save  for  the  monotonous  whisper  of  the 
forest. 

"  Oh,  let  me  rest  a  minute.  We've  come  a 
hundred  miles  at  least,  haven't  we? '' 

"  About  three  miles.    It  might  have  been  eight 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  147 

or  nine  only  for  those  plagued  snakes,"  was 
the  twitting  answer. 

''  I  know,  but  I  couldn't  help  it.  Maybe  if 
you  hadn't  told  me,  you  know — ''  said  Myra, 
half  apologetically. 

A  low,  mollified  laugh  answered : 

"  'Twas  certainly  my  fault,  but  Til  never  re- 
peat the  mistake.  Don't  sit  quite  so  near  the 
edge  of  those  trees,  Miss  Thorn.  Here's  a  better 
place  out  here.    Are  you  verij  tired?    I've  been 

hurrvinsf  vou  considerablv." 

tot/  * 

He  chose  a  seat  better  suited  to  his  woodland 
instinct,  beside  a  high  boulder;  and  following 
him  Myra  wondered  whether  the  darkness, 
which  made  his  form  taller  and  uncertain  in  out- 
line, was  not  also  wrapping  him  in  a  glamour  of 
romance.  His  homage  was  certainly  growing 
very  acceptable.  She  liked  the  care,  the  assidu- 
ous personal  care,  he  was  bestowing  on  her  com- 
fort. While  he  stood  above  her,  alert  and  watch- 
ful, yet  feignedly  so  much  at  his  ease,  it  vras 
hard  to  think  of  him  as  an  outlaw — abhorred  and 
feared  by  the  countryside  and  by  all  good  women. 
In  her  inmost  heart  she  suddenly  wished  he  was 
no  more  than  he  seemed,  a  brave  man,  a  courte- 
ous gentleman. 

The  silence  which  was  the  cloak  of  the  forest 
fell  upon  their  voices,  weighting  them  to  whis- 


148  THE  SHEUIFF  OF  WASCO. 

pers.  They  might  have  been  forest  lovers  sitting 
there  beneath  the  starlight,  alone  on  the  wild 
mountain  top.  Despite  herself,  Myra's  animos- 
ity slipped  away  after  her  fears.  Ever  since  the 
morning  she  had  been  forced  to  detain  it  with 
both  hands. 

'^  The  moon  will  rise  in  about  an  hour.  Till 
then  we  can  rest.  Hear  the  rustling  of  that  as- 
pen tree.  Do  you  know  the  story  of  the  trem- 
bling aspens.  Miss  Thorn? '' 

"  No,''  she  whispered.  In  the  same  tone,  al- 
most a  whisper,  he  recounted  the  Indian  legend 
of  the  aspen  trees  that  fell  in  love  with  the  snows 
on  the  mountain's  summit.  Climbing  upward 
they  preferred  to  shiver  and  tremble  all  the  live- 
long summer  for  love's  sake,  rather  than  remain 
with  the  other  trees  in  the  valley  and  be  exiled 
from  love. 

Myra  listened  with  the  same  feeling  of  be- 
wilderment she  had  experienced  that  morning. 
He  was  altogether  inexplicable;  and  the  glimpses 
of  goodness  she  had  seen  in  him,  together  with 
her  gratitude  and  true  womanhood,  pointed  out 
to  her  a  duty. 

"  Mr.  Hardeman,"  she  essayed  timidly,  "  I 
don't  exactly  understand  you  always,  but  I  want 
to  say  that  you've  been  very  kind — extremely 
kind — to  me  since  this  morning,  and  I  appre- 
ciate it." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  149 

There  was  no  answer,  but  the  figure  beside 
her  made  a  slight  movement. 

Mvra's  upturned  face  was  like  a  pale  night 
flower;  her  eyes  shone  darkly  like  benevolent 
stars  as  she  went  on : 

"  I  may  not  see  you  again,  so  please  don't  re- 
sent this.  I  wish  you  weren't — I  do  wish  you'd 
be  a  better  man,  Mr.  Hardeman.  I  v^ant  you  to 
be  better.  Father  '11  speak  to  the  Governor,  and 
I'll  be  happy  to  do  all  I  can  to  help.  Won't 
you  promise  me?  " 

To  her  consternation  he  swooped  down  in  si- 
lence, gathered  her  in  a  mighty  grasp  and  swung 
her  upward  to  the  top  of  the  boulder.  Draw- 
ing his  revolver  from  her  belt  where  it  had  lain 
all  day  he  thrust  it  into  her  hands. 

''  Take  it,  and  whatever  you  see  don't  stir. 
Don't  come  down."  His  hands  clung  to  the 
touch  of  hers,  and  his  tone  set  her  heart  leap- 
ing helplessly.  "  Believe  me — I  would  promise 
and  I  would  do,  anything  in  the  world  for  your 
sake." 

Immediately,  before  she  could  gasp  an  answer, 
he  advanced  rifle  in  hand  a  pace  or  two  before 
her  with  his  face  turned  toward  the  forest. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A    NOCTURNAL   ADVENTURE. 

Straining  her  eyes  in  the  same  direction, 
Mvra  remained  palpitating  on  the  boulder.  The 
forest  seemed  one  impenetrable  black  wall, 
threatening  everywhere  alike.  But  after  a  mo- 
ment or  two  she  caught  a  sound,  the  sharp  crack 
of  dead  wood;  the  underbrush  rustled  loudly  as 
if  in  the  grasp  of  a  high  wind,  then  dead  silence 
prevailed  once  more. 

Fear  got  the  better  of  every  other  emotion  in 
Myra. 

''  What  is  it? ''  she  breathed. 

"  Some  animal.  Don't  be  alarmed.  We're 
ready  for  him,"  he  answered  without  turning  his 
head. 

The  silence  continued.  Somewhere  at  the  edge 
of  the  thicket  undefined  wild  eyes  had  them  un- 
der observation.  Perhaps  because  these  humans 
standing  in  the  starlight  were  two,  or  perhaps 
because  of  the  warlike  attitude  of  one  of  them, 
the  intruder  was  taking  counsel  with  caution. 

Not  for  long,  however.     A  louder  crackle  of 

150 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  151 

dead  branches,  then  a  heavy  footfall  that  scorned 
the  need  of  strategy,  and  with  a  movement  like 
lightning  the  man's  arms  went  up;  fire  spouted 
from  the  unseen  rifle,  and  the  silence  fled  re- 
verberating. 

Myra  saw  the  forest  w^all  give  up  a  huge  dark 
body,  which  rolled  swiftly  in  their  direction, 
emitting  grunts  and  roars  of  rage.  Fire  flashed 
and  flashed  from  the  rifle  without  checking  the 
advance,  while  the  hillside  and  forest  took  up  the 
clamor  vociferously.  As  the  animal  came  out 
into  the  open  the  man  looked  small  beside  him. 
Myra  closed  her  teeth  on  a  shriek  as  she  saw^  it. 
She  was  learned  enough  in  forest  lore  to  recog- 
nize a  grizzly,  and  a  big  one. 

The  bear  was  badly  hurt,  though  not  vitally, 
and  full  of  fight.  One  of  the  shots  had  lodged 
in  his  flank,  partly  laming  him,  but  he  came  on 
like  a  catapult  toward  his  enemy.  The  rifle  was 
silent,  w^hile  the  man,  motionless,  covering  the 
girl's  position  with  his,  awaited  the  favorable 
moment  to  shoot.  Then  once  again,  as  the  bear 
rose,  growling  frightfully,  his  wicked  eyes 
gleaming,  and  with  huge  arms  extended,  a  spurt 
of  flame  leaped  from  the  rifle. 

A  roar  of  pain  and  fury  burst  from  the 
wounded  animal's  throat.  Shaking  his  head 
fiercely  he  dropped  to  all  fours  for  a  moment 
Myra  heard  a  strong  voice  ring  out  cheerfully: 


152  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

"  That  was  a  good  one.    Are  jou  all  right?  " 

"  Yes.  Don't  worry  about  me/'  she  cried  fever- 
ishly.   ^^Oh '' 

The  bear  was  up  on  his  hind  feet  again,  higher 
than  the  man,  and  of  thrice  his  bulk,  his  jaws 
agape  and  running  with  white  foam  and  blood. 
The  stench  of  his  great  body  was  well  nigh  un- 
bearable. It  seemed  that  the  man  must  surely 
be  overwhelmed  unless  he  moved.  But  again 
with  the  rifle  muzzle  almost  touching  the  huge 
throat,  he  fired.  A  mighty  cuff  from  one  of  the 
big  paws  reached  him  as  the  bear  came  crash- 
ing down,  and  the  two  rolled  to  the  earth  simul- 
taneously, and  the  weapon  upon  which  the  man 
and  woman  depended  for  safety  was  knocked  far 
beyond  reach. 

Not  a  scream,  but  a  stifled  little  gasp,  came 
from  the  boulder's  top.  The  man  nimbly  re- 
gained his  feet,  but  there  was  no  time  for  any- 
thing but  his  hunting-knife  and  he  struck  again 
and  again,  but  could  not  reach  a  vital  spot, 
while  his  agility  alone  kept  him  beyond  reach  of 
the  deadly  claws. 

He  might  have  worked  towards  his  rifle,  but 
he  would  not  leave  the  boulder  uncovered.  To 
the  mind  of  the  girl  above  him  came  flashing  the 
memory  of  the  previous  night.    Tlien  she  would 

have  wished  him  dead.     But  now .    With  a 

white  face  and  muscles  all  tense  she  grasped  the 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  153 

revolver,  but  she  could  not  pull  the  trigger ;  her 
hand  was  stiff  and  palsied.  Her  arm  trembled, 
and  the  stars  in  the  glimmering  heavens  seemed 
to  move,  as  before  a  screen.  Her  heart  heaved 
and  she  felt  herself  weakening.  With  a  despair- 
ing cry  she  let  the  weapon  slip  down  from  her 
hand. 

"  Get  it,"  she  cried  hoarsely,  "  the  Colt." 
He  stood  below  her,  quivering  with  the  lust  of 
battle.  As  the  bear  lunged  forward,  mouth 
agape  and  arms  swinging  ahead  of  its  lumber- 
ing body,  he  side-stepped  and  brought  his  arm 
forward  in  a  circle,  burying  the  knife  into  the 
smoking  body.  Then,  quick  as  thought,  he  bent 
and  kicked  the  revolver  before  him,  and  darting 
beyond  the  animal  stooped  and  secured  it.  But 
the  great  hulk  was  now  standing  over  him ;  the 
hot  breath  was  rushing  past  his  face  and  the 
odor  of  blood  and  animal  thickened  the  air.  As 
the  grizzly's  arms  swung  over  him  he  ducked, 
but  they  closed  upon  him.  With  his  left  arm 
crooked  to  protect  his  face  and  neck  in  the 
deadly  embrace,  his  right  brought  the  Colt's 
muzzle  to  the  reeking  body.  A  flash,  another 
and  another;  the  muffled  sounds  of  the  shots 
rose  faintly  to*Myra's  ears,  and  then  she  beheld 
the  great  mountain  of  flesh  and  muscle  fall  over 
the  man,  and  saw  the  red  dripping  tongue  curl 
on  the  great  white  teeth  in  a  spasmodic  move- 


154  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

ment,  and  the  giant  clawed  arms  relax.  Next 
instant  the  man  pulled  himself  free,  and  jump- 
ing back,  stumbled  breathlessly  toward  her, 
bloody  and  pale,  his  chest  heaving  and  his  whole 
lithe  body  quivering  with  the  strain. 

''  God,"  he  whispered,  *^  you  saved  us  with  that 
revolver." 

''  Lift  me  down,"  she  whispered  back  weakly- 
And  he  reached  up  and  slowly  and  carefully 
lowered  her. 

But  the  strain  had  been  terrible.  As  her  feet 
touched  the  ground  she  clung  to  him  for  a  mo- 
ment, white  lipped  and  dizzy  and  trembling. 
Then  softly  and  limply  she  slipped  through  his 
hands  to  the  ground  and  covered  her  face. 

^'Ohl  what  a  fight,''  she  sobbed,  "What  an 
awful,  awful  monster.  When  he  got  those  big 
arms  round  you,  I  thought  we  were  both  gone. 
Are  you  sure  you're  not  hurt  anywhere?  " 

She  raised  her  eyes,  large  and  sweet  with 
solicitude,  and  questioned  him.  Fear  had  torn 
off  all  conventions  and  left  her  just  a  woman, 
with  a  woman's  mission  to  comfort  and  heal  the 
man  who  had  fought  for  her. 

"  I've  nothing  to  show  but  the  blood  I  guess," 
he  answered  smiling.  "  But  I  must  find  water. 
Shall  I  fetch  you  some  here,  or ?  " 

Myra  sprang  up,  an  April  smile  hastily  chas- 
ing off  the  tears. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  155 

"  No,  no,  I'll  wait  on  myself.  Goodness,  you 
don't  think  I'd  let  you  out  of  my  sight  for  one 
minute,  do  you?  There  might  be  more  griz- 
zlies." 

So,  a  dilapidated  but  friendly  pair,  they  set 
out  to  look  for  a  spring. 

They  found  one  just  as  the  moon  was  coming 
up,  fair  and  silvery,  flooding  the  face  of  the  silent 
wilds  with  light. 

He,  true  cavalier  still,  must  needs  satisfy  her 
thirst  first,  and  then,  while  he  cleansed  away 
the  signs  of  battle,  she  stood  near  and  waited, 
comrade  like.  She  no  longer  thought  and  ar- 
gued with  herself.  He  had  escaped.  She  felt 
a  singular  gladness  over  the  fact,  mingling  with 
the  joyous  sense  that  he  had  established  a  right 
to  her  respect  as  well. 

Following  this  adventure  they  kept  carefully 
to  the  heights,  with  the  silvered,  treacherous  for- 
est lying  asleep  below  them. 

Once  when  they  had  travelled  a  long  way  in 
silence,  he  pulled  up  quite  suddenly  with  a 
smothered  exclamation.  Drawing  out  his  re- 
volver he  glanced  at  its  loaded  chambers  and 
handed  it  to  her. 

"  I  forgot  you  wanted  to  carry  this,"  he 
said. 

Myra's  face  grew  hot.  But  as  her  upraised 
startled  glance  met  his  for  an  instant,  a  baffling 


156  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WA8C0. 

something  she  saw  lying  deep  in  his  eyes  moved 
her  to  take  the  weapon  quietly  from  him. 

''It's  a  useful  little  toy,  isn't  it?"  she  said, 
raising  the  murderous  revolver  admiringly  till 
it  gleamed  in  the  moonlight,  '' — when  it's  in 
proper  hands,"  she  added.  ''  It's  heavy,  too. 
Won't  you  kindly  carry  it  for  me,  Mr.  Harde- 
man? "  And  she  handed  it  back,  while  all  her 
woman's  dignity  and  sweetness  were  in  the 
smile  she  gave  him. 

He  gravely  restored  the  weapon  to  its  place. 
"  Remember  you  may  have  it  any  time  you  wish," 
he  said,  quite  unembarrassed. 

As  they  walked  along  Myra  was  not  wholly 
sure  how  she  had  come  out  of  the  episode.  Such 
queer  sensitiveness  about  honor  in  an  outlaw ! 
But  her  respect  for  him,  which  had  been  creep- 
ing upward  all  day,  mounted  defiantly,  and  she 
felt  strangely  happier  for  her  vote  of  confidence 
in  him. 

At  midnight  he  stopped  their  march,  and  hav- 
insr  found  her  a  comfortable  nook  he  once  more 
seated  himself  at  her  feet  and  drew  out  the  slen- 
der remnant  of  food  from  his  wallet.  Presently, 
with  a  smile  in  which  many  feelings  strove 
for  expression,  regret  being  chief,  he  looked 
up: 

"Just  about  sunrise  you'll  be  taking  break- 
fast at  home  in  Hilltown,  Miss  Thorn." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  157 

"Oh,  shall  I?"  said  Myra  joyfully,  and  then 
silence  seemed  to  clip  the  words  short. 

"  Your  father  will  be  glad,"  he  said  without 
spirit. 

"  Dear  old  Daddy,  I  guess  he  will,''  said  Myra, 
smiling,  but  thoughtful. 

''  You'll  be  safe  out  of  Hardeman's  clutches, 
too.  I  don't  ask  if  you'll  be  glad.  It  isn't  neces- 
sary," he  pursued. 

]Uyra's  silence  read  like  assent.  Meeting  it, 
he  struck  the  turf  viciously  with  his  hunting 
knife. 

"  I  was  wondering  what  yoii  are  going  to  do 
at  sunrise,  Mr.  Hardeman,"  she  said  softly  at 
last. 

In  a  dim  way,  and  to  relieve  an  undefined 
heartache  in  herself,  Myra  had  the  missionary 
idea  in  mind  again.  But  a  glance  from  the  gray- 
blue  eyes  shot  to  hers  and  she  felt  as  though  she 
had  encountered  a  lightning  bolt. 

"  I'm  going  to  follow  that  advice  you  were 
giving  me  to-night  when  the  grizzly  struck  us. 
— Remember?  It  was  good  advice — for  Harde- 
man or  any  man,"  he  answered. 

Myra  remembered  distinctly — several  things 
about  that  incident,  and  she  forsook  the  mission- 
ary idea. 

"  Y^ou've  been  following  it  very  nicely,  I  think, 


^  >> 


158  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

she  said,  lier  face  warm,  and  her  ejes  a  little  re- 
buking. 

Two  or  three  minutes  elapsed.  Myra  was 
striving  helplessly  not  to  acknowledge  a  bond, 
which  she  felt  growing  in  the  silence.  He  pur- 
sued: 

"  There's  my  friend,  the  Sheriff.  You'll  see 
him.  Of  course  you'll  put  him  on  my  trail,  I 
suppose." 

Apparently  he  was  intently  studying  the  hori- 
zon.    Or  so  thought  Myra. 

'^  Why  do  you  suppose  that?  "  she  demanded 
uncertainly. 

"  It's  your  duty. — Besides  you  have  other 
reasons,"  he  said  slowly  and  distinctly. 

Despite  her  surprise  and  irritation  Myra  felt 
that  she  must  be  judicial.  He  should  not  have 
dragged  the  difficulty  of  her  position  into  the 
light  like  that — in  that  reckless,  sardonic  way 
of  his. 

^'  Yes,  it  is  my  duty.  But  you  said  just  now 
you  would  follow — you  said  you'd  reform,"  she 
reminded  him. 

"  That  won't  cut  any  ice  with  the  Sheriff." 

^^  But  you  will  keep  the  promise,"  she  insisted 
entreatingly.  "  You  see  I  don't  have  to  take  any 
man's  ideas  of  right  and  wrong — not  even  the 
big  Sheriff  of  Wasco's,"  said  Myra,  with  slight 
asperity  on  the  name. 


TEE  SEERIFF  OF  WASCO.  159 

She  did  not  see  his  look  of  triumph.  By  great 
art  he  had  diverted  her  loyalty  from  a  man's 
name  to  a  man — himself  It  was  right  that  he 
should  penitently  and  humbly  whisper  as  he  took 
her  hand. 

'^  I  will  keep  my  promise.  You  make  me 
deeply  ashamed  of  myself,  Miss  Thorn." 

Just  after  daybreak  he  showed  her  through  the 
trees  a  long,  low  cabin,  the  sight  of  which  seemed 
strange,  and  yet  oddly  familiar.  Two  or  three 
men  were  moving  briskly  about  it. 

"  Why — the  patrol !  "  burst  forth  Myra  de- 
lightedly. 

"  Certainly ;  the  patrol.  The  bunch  that's  out 
looking  for  me,  you  know,"  he  supplemented. 
His  face  was  alight  with  smiling  daredeviltry. 
"  Miss  Thorn,  give  them  my  kindest  regards, 
won't  you?    I  guess  I'll  go  no  further." 

"  Oh,  don't  joke  about  it,"  cried  Myra.  She 
surveyed  him  with  a  pained  and  doubtful  look. 
Then  she  gave  him  her  hand,  regret  and  pity,  and 
other  things  she  knew  not  of  in  her  blue  eyes. 

"  Qoodbye,"  she  whispered  ^'  — goodbye,  and 
thank  you.  I'm  so  sorry.  I  hope  some  day  I 
shall  meet  you  again  as  a  good  citizen,  Mr. 
Hardeman." 

"  When  next  you  see  Hardeman  he'll  be  a 
much  better  citizen.  Miss  Thorn,  I  promise,"  he 
answered  in  a  voice  most  gentle  and  enigmatic 


160  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

"  Goodbye."  Bareheaded  he  bowed  over  her 
hand  and  kissed  it,  and  next  moment  had  van- 
ished among  the  trees,  unsatisfactory  to  the  last. 

But  for  no  great  distance  however.  Strongly 
disgusted  with  himself  he  stood  concealed  and 
watched  her  progress,  noting  that  once  she  stop- 
ped to  look  backward  hesitatingly. 

"  Scalp  me  for  an  idiot,''  he  muttered  heart- 
ily. "  Hang  my  wall-eyed  sense  of  humor.  I've 
had  my  joke  and  what's  the  result?  Simply 
I've  fooled  her  into  believing  she  was  influ- 
encing that  profligate  Hardeman  for  good, — and 
she'll  never  forgive  me  when  she  learns  the 
truth."  Here  Myra  stopped  to  give  that  sad 
little  backward  look,  and  his  eyes  glowed. 
"  She's  the  one  woman,  all  right. — I'd  go  down 
on  my  knees  to  her,  but  it  wouldn't  help  me 
any."  His  hand  unconsciously  wandered  to  his 
hip,  where  the  revolver's  touch  recalled  him.  A 
gleam  of  satisfaction  and  hatred  lit  the  smold- 
ering disgust  of  his  countenance.  "  I'll  start 
after  that  unholy  reprobate  right  nov/,  and  make 
him  pay,"  he  hoarsely  articulated. 

As  Myra  disappeared  and  he  swung  back  to- 
ward the  trail  a  further  consideration  came  to 
cheer  him. 

"  I  switched  her  off  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco, 
however."  A  grin  of  delight  parted  his  lips. 
"  Darned  if  I  didn't  get  jealous  of  my  own  self 
hearing  her  talk  about  the  Sheriff.'^ 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    SHERIFF    UNDER   FIRE. 

Great  was  the  rejoicing  when  Myra,  ragged 
and  exhausted,  was  escorted  into  Hiiltown  by 
the  big,  tender,  indignant  patrolmen  into  whose 
care  she  had  been  committed. 

She  met  her  father  as  he  was  about  to  head 
another  expedition  to  go  in  search  of  her.  Poor 
Mr.  Thorn  had  returned  post-haste  to  Hiiltown 
the  moment  the  news  had  reached  him,  making 
the  long,  arduous  journey  on  horseback;  and 
had  instantly  thrown  all  his  energies  into  the 
gathering  and  organizing  of  search  parties.  Men 
had  come  from  far  and  near  at  his  call,  eager  in 
their  offers  of  help  and  sympathy ;  for  the  name 
of  Hardeman  was  one  at  which  all  the  region 
arose  with  angry  threats  of  vengeance. 

The  old  gentleman  met  his  daughter  and  her 
patrolmen  escort  quite  unexpectedly.  All  Hill- 
town  witnessed  the  pathetic  meeting,  and  added 
its  tears  to  theirs  in  pure  appreciation  of  the 
joy  of  the  occasion;  afterwards  scattering  to  its 
cabins  to  discuss  the  strange  momentous  fact 

161 


162  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

that   Myra  had   been   brought   back   quite   un- 
harmed. 

With  Captain  Butts  and  his  men  especially 
it  was  a  subject  of  wise  speculation.  Many 
theories  were  advanced  to  account  for  it,  as  the 
puzzled  shifts  sat  around  the  camp  fire  and 
talked  of  Hardeman's  sudden  and  unaccount- 
able goodness. 

"  Think  of  his  cheek,  fetchin'  her  right  to  the 
edge  of  this  here  clearin'.  Tell  you  he  got  rat- 
tled,'' said  Jenks  of  Oregon.  "  He  got  wind  that 
the  Sheriff  o'  Wasco  was  on  his  tracks  an' 
thought  he'd  square  himself." 

"  Course  he  did.  The  Sheriff  sent  him  a 
telegram  through  the  Devil's  Pass  to  say  he 
was  comin ! "  growled  Jones  sarcastically. 

"  Well,  give  us  your  opinion,  Mr.  Jones,  if 
you're  such  a  wise  guy,"  retorted  Jenks,  net- 
tled. 

^' Ain't  got  no  opinion.  It's  too  blamed  in- 
tricate for  me." 

''  Well,  I  have.  I'll  bet  you  that  there  Sheriff 
had  something  to  do  with  it." 

"  Shucks !  You've  got  sheriff  on  the  brain, 
Jenks.  Didn't  she  say  'twas  Hardeman  as 
brought  her  back?  She'd  oughter  know,  I 
s'pose." 

"  Maybe.  I  ain't  so  sure.  What  I'd  like  to 
know  is  this,"  and  Jenks  pointed  his  pipe  across 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  163 

the  fire  at  Jones,  who  sat  on  the  other  side, — 
^*  why  ain't  we  heard  nothin'  from  that  Sheriff 
yet?  It's  been  two  days  an'  a  couple  o'  nights 
since  he  polished  off  Bill  an'  Dutch  here.  Now 
what  d'  you  s'pose  he's  been  doin'  meanwhile? 
Washin'  cobwebs  off'n  the  sky?  " 

"  Nit  I  "  retorted  Jones,  disgustedly.  "  Maybe 
he's  dead." 

^'  Maybe  he  ain't.  Have  you  taken  into  con- 
sideration in  that  there  profuse  gray  matter  of 
your  top-knot  that  this  here  Sheriff  looks  a 
heap  like  Hardeman,  an'  that  there  might  be 
some  sort  of  a  shuffle  in  the  cyards." 

"  That's  the  looniest  proposition  ever  w^as  pro- 
mulgated outside  of  a  bug-house,  Jenks.  You're 
off.     You've  got  Sheriff  o'  Wasco  in  yer  attic." 

^'  Maybe  I  have,"  assented  Jenk  good-na- 
turedly, "  but  there's  got  to  be  some  sort  of  an  ex- 
planation as  fits  the  case.  That  there  Harde- 
man never  would  give  up  a  woman  like  Miss 
Thorn  unharmed  an'  alive;  an'  you  fellows  know 
that  quite  well." 

There  was  much  truth  in  Jenks'  remarks  and 
the  mystery  certainly  was  deep. 

Next  evening  Bill  Thomas  and  Dutch,  who  had 
gone  into  Hilltown,  returned  to  the  circle  round 
the  camp  fire  with  the  startling  news  that  the 
man  who  brought  Miss  Thorn  home  had  worn  a 
visored  cap. 


164  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

^*  He  did,  eh?  Who  told  you?"  inquired 
Butts. 

"  Her  father  did.  He's  lookin'  fer  a  man  an- 
swerin'  to  that  description.  Me  an'  Dutch  had 
a  notion  we  was  lookin'  fer  him  too,  but  we 
didn't  say  nothin' ! "  ventured  Thomas. 

Jenks  sprang  up.  ''  What  did  I  tell  you? 
Who's  got  trouble  in  their  attic  now?  Seems 
to  me  that  this  here  congregation  stands  con- 
victed. You  wouldn't  recognize  the  possibilities 
o'  that  Sheriff — you  wouldn't,  you  set  o'  peanut 
brains." 

"  Shut  up,  Jenks.  You're  liable  to  bust  yer 
gall,  excitin'  yerself  like  that,"  said  Butts. 
"  This  outlaw  Hardeman  wore  a  mask  when  he 
took  Miss  Thorn  away,  didn't  he?  " 

^'  Suppose  he  did ! "  retorted  Jenks  sarcastic- 
ally, "  then  would  he  be  liable  ter  throw  it  off 
a  coming  back,  like  this  gentleman  who  returned 
with  her  done?  And  would  he  be  liable  to  wear 
a  visored  cap?  That  there  roofing  belongs  to 
the  Sheriff  o'  Wasco,  sure  as  thunder." 

"  You're  dead  right,"  cried  Butts,  "  You're 
dead  right,  Jenks — and  it  becomes  this  here  lay- 
out sure,  to  see  that  this  Sheriff  gets  received 
according  to  Hoyle  when  he  sticks  his  foot-prints 
in  this  camp  again." 

The  men  were  not  slow  to  appreciate  what 
their  captain  had  said. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  165 

"  We'll  make  him  confess  all  about  it,"  yelled 

one. 

"We'll  make  the  sly  Sheriff  cavort  around 
like  one  of  them  there  yaller-haired  soubretties 
on  the  stage  over  in  Seattle,"  cried  another. 

"  We'll  ask  him  why — we  will,"  chorused  the 
the  crowd.  They  were  all  happy  at  a  chance  to 
vent  their  grim  humor  on  the  unsuspecting 
Sheriff;  and  they  got  up  from  around  the  camp 
fire  and  walked  about  in  groups  here  and  there, 
discussing  plans  how  best  to  make  the  sinner  re- 
pent. 

Butts  was  standing  with  Jenks  and  Jones  near 
the  fire  when  suddenly  they  became  aware  of  the 
presence  of  a  stranger  near  them.  At  the  same 
moment  everyone  in  camp  saw  him,  and  instinct- 
ively they  closed  around  him.  He  was  standing 
facing  Captain  Butts,  the  fire-light  illumining 
his  tanned  and  handsome  face.  His  Winchester 
was  grounded,  its  barrel  resting  in  his  left  hand. 
Upon  his  head  was  a  visored  cap,  cocked  slightly 
backward  in  challenging  attitude.  He  looked 
keenly  at  Butts  and  then  his  voice  rang  out, 
melodious  and  pleasant. 

"  I'm  a  stranger  hereabouts,  gentlemen. 
Which  one  is  Jenks  of  Oregon,  an  old  acquaint- 
ance of  mine?— And  is  this  Captain  Butts  of  the 
patrol  T" 

He  odranced  a  step  towards  the  group  as  he 


166  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

spoke,  his  eyes  twinkling  and  his  face  bearing 
a  half-quizzical  smile. 

Jenks  stepped  forward  in  an  instant. 

''  Sheriff/'  he  cried.  "  Fm  darned  glad  to  see 
you.    This  here  is  Captain  Butts.'' 

They  shook  hands  vigorously  and  a  subdued 
growl  of  w^elcome  rang  from  the  men.  "  The 
Sheriff  of  Wasco/'  they  cried,  "  the  Sheriff,  for 
sure." 

Then  every  man  was  personally  introduced 
to  the  new  arrival.  Dutch  and  Thomas  hung 
back  to  the  last,  but  the  boys  began  to  laugh, 
and  they  ambled  forward  and  took  the  Sheriff's 
proffered  hand.  There  was  a  moment  of  strained 
suspense,  then  the  Sheriff  drew  his  Colt  care- 
lessly and  glancing  at  its  chambers  and  at  his 
belt  remarked  directly  to  Dutch  and  Thomas: 

"  Do  either  of  you  boys  happen  to  have  a  few 
cartridges  you  can  spare?    I'm  short." 

In  the  great  woodlands  and  mountains  of  the 
West,  to  ask  for  and  obtain  a  few  cartridges  was 
really  often  a  mark  of  friendship.  The  favor 
w^as  seldom  refused,  and  never  asked  where  there 
was  much  danger  of  refusal. 

Dutch  and  Thomas  instantly  unbuckled  their 
belts :  "  Here,  Sheriff,  you  can  have  the  cart- 
ridges and  the  guns  too,  if  your'n  is  outer  order." 

"Nope,"  smiled  the  Sheriff,  "no,  thanks,  my 
45's  all  right,"  but  he  stooped  and  pulled  a  few 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  167 

cartridges  from  both  belts  and  placed  them  in 
his  own. 

Dutch  and  Thomas  felt  keenly  honored.  Thej 
forgot  about  the  licking  they  had  had,  and  all  the 
other  boys,  watching  closely  and  uncertainly, 
suddenly  realized  that  the  Sheriff  was  a  diplo- 
mat. 

They  grinned,  and  Miguel  the  Italian  turned 
to  the  man  next  to  him. 

''  Thata  Sheriff  is  a  slicka  gentaman,"  he 
whispered. 

But  somehow,  in  spite  of  the  visitor's  friendli- 
ness, they  did  not  find  it  so  easy  to  quiz  him  as 
they  had  anticipated.  It  was  the  gigantic  Jones, 
sprawling  on  his  stomach  bej'ond  the  fire,  who 
finally  raised  a  pair  of  shrewd,  humorous  eyes 
to  the  guest's  face  and  broached  the  important 
question. 

"  Say,  Sheriff,  us  boys  has  got  a  argyment  w^e'd 
like  to  have  you  referee,  if  you  don't  mind.  We'd 
like  to  know  the  name  o'  the  man  as  brung  Miss' 
Myra  back  home.'' 

The  Sheriff  seemed  unconscious  that  twenty- 
four  gleaming  eyes  were  leveled  like  Colts  at  his 
face.     He  looked  innocently  surprised. 

"  Why,  she  says  herself  'twas  Hardeman,  don't 
she?    Where's  yer  argument?    I  don't  catch  on." 

"  Yes,  she  says  'twas  Hardeman.  But,  from 
certain  matters  what  you  might  call  circumstan- 


168  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

tial  evidence,  this  camp  is  led  to  the  belief  she 
don't  know  who  it  was.  We  surmised  as  how 
you  might  be  able  to  enlighten  us." 

"  Can't  do  it,  boys — sorry,"  said  the  Sheriff, 
shaking  his  head. 

"  Can't !  That  surely  is  a  disapp'intment  to  us, 
ain't  it,  boys? "  said  Jones,  looking  round  the 
circle.  "  By  all  accounts  now,  this  here  Harde- 
man is  plumb  gentlemanly  when  he  takes  the 
notion.  You  hadn't  oughter  shoot  him,  Sheriff, 
he's  too  good." 

"  Real  sociable  an'  perlite,  he  is." 

"  Belongs  in  a  Sunday  school." 

"  He  ain't  no  real  outlaw,"  came  in  sarcastic 
chorus.  Jones'  jaws  worked  monotonously  on 
a  quid  of  tobacco,  but  his  eyes  never  wandered 
from  the  Sheriff's  face. 

"  You  see,"  he  resumed  slowly,  "  that  outlaw 
as  brung  her  back — pervided  he's  the  same  as 
took  her  off — wore  some  sort  of  a  cap  on  his 
dome  o'  thinks.  That's  sorter  unusual  arounc? 
here." 

"  Hardeman  comes  from  Wasco,"  was  the  in 
stant  retort.    "  We  sell  caps  down  there,  boys.^' 

A  dozen  unbelieving  grins  passed  round  th& 
fire.  "  Caps  or  no  caps,  it's  hard  work  to  sell 
this  here  camp,"  began  Butts.  "  There's  only 
one  thing  I  don't  like  'bout  this  rescuin'  busi- 
ness," he  mused,  his  eyes  twinkling.    "  Allowin^ 


TEE  SEERIFF  OF  WASCO.  169 

as  Hardeman  reformed  an'  did  bring  her  back, 
he  didn't  have  no  right  to  kiss  her  when  he  said 
good-bye.     That's  scand'lous." 

In  a  flash  the  Sheriff  turned  on  Butts.  "  It's 
a  lie,  he  didn't  kiss  her,"  he  said  quietly  but 
furiously. 

''  How  do  you  know?  "  drawled  Butts.  "  Was 
you  there?  " 

But  the  crowd  leaped  up  and  piled  onto  the 
Sheriff,  who  instantly  perceived  his  fatal  mis- 
take. 

"  We're  on.  Sheriff,  we're  on,"  roared  the  men. 
"  Own  up.  Be  a  man,"  and  they  grabbed  him 
and  raised  him  on  high  on  a  stump.  "  Speech, 
vou  son  of  a  sun !  "  they  cried.  "  Tell  us  all 
about  it.     Enlighten  this  here  congregation." 

The  Sheriff  w^as  stage  struck.  ''  I  realize,"  he 
began, — "  you're  on." 

^'Quit  kiddin'.  Sheriff,"  they  bawled,  "'an 
tell  us  why  you  hid  your  light  under  a  bushel. 
Why  didn't  you  tell  her  who  you  was?" 

The  young  man  on  the  stump  looked  defence- 
less for  the  first  time  in  his  adventurous  life. 

"  Say,  boys,  go  easy  on  him.  Maybe  he's  in 
love,"  said  Butts  facetiously. 

"  Nothing  o'  the  sort,"  retorted  the  Sheriff, 
red  in  the  face.  "  I  didn't  tell  her  because — well 
I  had  certain  reasons  o'  my  own  that  w^ouldn't 
appeal  to  your  profound  judgments.     Anyway 


170  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

what  was  the  use  o'  tellin'  her.  I  ain't  anythin' 
except  a  poor  six  hundred  dollar  sheriff  from 
Wasco." 

"  In  love,  sure/'  muttered  the  crowd,  "  he's 
plumb  locoed." 

Butts  explained.  "  He  means,  boys,  she's  a 
millionaire's  daughter,  an'  his  six  hundred  dol- 
lars don't  give  him  much  chance,  but  he's  got 
hopes.    He's  hit  sure." 

a  ^^e're  with  you.  Sheriff,  we're  with  you," 
they  chorused  heartily. 

But  as  the  Sheriff  began  to  answer,  a  shot 
rang  out  in  the  distance.  He  turned  half  round 
on  the  giant  stump  and  brought  his  hand  heavily 
to  his  side.  Then  he  pitched  forward  into  the 
arms  of  his  new-found  friends  below. 

"  Hell !  "  came  in  furious  emphasis  from  the 
crowd,  *'  he's  hit." 

They  lowered  him  carefully  to  the  ground. 
But  reaching  for  his  weapon  he  raised  himself 
to  his  knees  and  faced  the  distant  woods 
from  w^hence  had  come  the  shot.  His  face  was 
lighted  with  a  vengeful  fury  and  weakly  he 
staggered  to  his  feet. 

"  Stop  him,"  they  cried  as  one  man,  "  he's  hard 
hit,"  and  they  surrounded  him  while  he  strug- 
gled fiercely  to  shake  them  off  and  be  free,  his 
hand  pressing  savagely  against  the  bleeding 
wound  in  his  side.    Then  suddenly  his  face  grew 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  171 

white;  thej  overpowered  him  and  he  sank  back 
weakly  into  their  arms  with  a  last  glance  of  dy- 
in"-  fire  towards  the  covert  that  concealed  his 
foe. 

"  That  was  Hardeman's  speech  you  got,  boys ; 
a  far  better  one  than  mine,"  he  w^hispered  in 
baffled  rage,  and  then  lapsed  into  unconscious- 
ness. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  HARDENED  SINNER. 

They  carried  the  wounded  man  to  a  small 
cabin  adjoining  the  main  one,  known  as  the 
"  Sick  House,"  where  they  succeeded  in  staunch- 
ing the  flow  of  blood  and  in  bringing  the  Sheriff 
back  to  consciousness. 

They  realized  that  it  was  well-nigh  hopeless  to 
try  and  capture  the  outlaw,  but  still  a  detach- 
ment started  vigorously  after  him.  Not,  how- 
ever, before  it  was  firmly  understood  that  no  one 
should  mention  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco's  presence 
in  the  camp.  Butts  realized  that  the  moral  ef- 
fect on  the  settlement  would  be  bad  if  the  true 
facts  were  known,  and  he  commanded  silence 
as  to  the  identity  of  the  injured  man. 

It  sufficed  that  a  man  had  been  "  accident- 
ally "  shot  at  the  camp ;  and  thus  was  the  story 
promulgated. 

That  night  a  physician  by  the  name  of  Backer 
came  in  response  to  Butts'  earnest  call.  He 
probed  the  wound  by  the  light  of  a  lantern  and, 
aided  by  two  of  the  men,  operated  upon  the 
Sheriff   and   removed    the   bullet.      Then   witb 

172 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  173 

painstaking  care  he  dressed  it  with  spick-and- 
span  white  sterilized  gauzes  and  other  modern 
products  which  proved  the  advance  of  civiliza- 
tion even  in  these  remote  corners  of  the  conti- 
nent. By  this  time  the  Sheriff  was  as  sick  as 
a  man  need  be,  for  he  had  refused  to  take  an 
anaesthetic,  preferring  to  chew  on  a  piece  of 
bandage  and  keep  an  eye  on  the  manipulations  of 
the  surgeon.  The  Sheriff  had  never  been  sick 
before  in  his  life,  and  the  suffering  he  under- 
went on  account  of  one  little  bullet  was  a  new 
experience  and  a  revelation  to  him. 

One  day  the  doctor  came  unexpectedly  upon 
Mr.  John  Thorn  and  his  daughter  on  the  high- 
way. The  assurance  that  the  outlaw  had  been 
followed  far  to  the  south-east  had  done  much  to 
quiet  all  fears,  and  Myra  was  again  seen  about 
the  trails  and  the  cabins  of  Hilltown.  She  had 
been  quite  seriously  affected  by  her  late  fear- 
ful experience,  but,  thanks  to  the  thousand 
kindnesses  showered  upon  her,  and  to  Doctor 
Backer's  good  care,  she  was  beginning  to  be  her 
own  self  again. 

She  spied  the  physician  coming  slowly  along 
the  highway  atop  of  his  well  cared  for  horse, 
and  hastened  ahead  to  meet  him. 

"Doctor,  how's  the  sick  patrolman,  the  one 
who  got  shot?''  she  inquired  with  sympathy  in 
her  voice  and  face. 


174  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

Now  the  doctor  was  in  the  secret  up  at  the 
camp,  and  he  sympathized  greatly  with  the 
Sheriff,  especially  as  he  knew  Miss  Thorn;  he 
decided  therefore  that  he  was  on  delicate  ground. 

"  Oh,  he's  fine.  Just  got  shot  up  a  little  .  He'll 
soon  be  well  now." 

^'  But  you've  been  riding  a  score  of  miles  every 
day  for  a  fortnight  to  see  him,"  she  said,  smiling 
doubtfully.  ''  I'm  afraid  you're  not  telling  me 
the  facts.  Doctor.  Which  of  them  is  it?  I  know 
them  all." 

"  I  never  was  good  on  names,"  said  Dr. 
Backer,  shaking  his  head  and  trying  to  move 
off.  "  It's  a  bad  fault  of  mine.  Always  remem- 
ber a  face,  though." 

^^  Well  I'll  go  up  there  to-morrow  and  find 
out,"  she  cried  after  him.  "  Those  poor  fellows 
never  get  any  proper  attentions  w^hen  they're 
sick — except  what  you  give  them  of  course." 

Dr.  Backer  instantly  reined  in  his  horse  and 
looked  sober.  There  was  danger  that  the  Sheriff 
would  receive  a  call  unless  he  managed  things 
better.  He  was  not  sure  what  the  consequences 
would  be. 

"  No,  no ;  you  couldn't  go  near  the  fellow. 
He's  a  villainous  looking  object.  It  wouldn't 
be  safe,  by  thunder;  he  is  as  delirious  as  a  hat- 
pin," remonstrated  the  doctor. 

Myra  laughed. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  175 

"  Oh,  no.  He's  fine.  He'll  soon  be  well  now — 
YOU  said  so  yourself.  Now  I  know  he's  very  bad, 
and  I'm  going  anyway."  She  shook  her  finger 
at  his  concerned  face.  ^^  Why,  Doctor,  you 
couldn't  deceive  even  poppa. — And  he's  easy," 
she  said  tenderly,  as  she  took  her  protesting 
parent's  arm  and  they  walked  off  together. 

The  doctor  went  his  way,  laughing  to  himself. 

"  She'll  go,  if  she's  a  woman.  And  I  ain't  all 
sorry  either.  There's  an'  interesting  time  com- 
ing for  the  Sheriff,  I  guess.    It's  up  to  him  now." 

Next  day  Myra — now  always  carryins:  a  re- 
yolyer — took  the  stage  to  camp,  intent  upon 
yisiting  the  injured  woodman.  Such  visits  were 
not  unusual  in  the  past;  she  had  never  hesi- 
tated to  help  any  of  the  men  or  the  women  in 
those  lonely  regions,  who  were  really  danger- 
ously ill.  Now  more  then  ever  she  owed  her 
gratitude  to  her  friends  the  patrolmen,  who  had 
done  their  best  to  save  her. 

When  she  arrived  in  camp  on  this  particular 
day  the  place  was  literally  asleep.  Butts  and 
the  night  shift  were  in  the  main  cabin,  and  only 
Yang  Foo  was  awake. 

He  came  trotting  to  meet  "  Miss  Tornee,"  di- 
vining that  she  had  come  to  see  the  sick  man, 
and  innocently  believing  that  she  knew  he  was 
the  famous  Sheriff  of  Wasco.  Yang  Foo  wished 
to  be  polite  and  gentlemanly,  and  neither  he  nor 


176  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

his  mate  supposed  the  caution  they  had  received 
concerning  the  sufferer's  identity  included  the 
lady  who  was  such  a  vitally  interested  party. 
So  Yang  Foo  kow-towed,  and  pointing  to  the 
hospital  cabin  sing-songed : 

"  He  velly  bladly  smashee.  He  gottee  go  to 
flunelal." 

"  Poor  man !  Let  me  see  him,  Yang  Foo.  Tell 
him  Miss  Thorn  w^ants  to  see  him." 

^^  Yes  I  slayee,''  nodded  Foo  as  he  scurried  off 
to  the  sick  man.  He  fully  believed  Myra  had 
come  to  thank  the  Sheriff  for  saving  her,  and  not 
for  a  moment  would  he,  Yang  Foo,  keep  a  lady 
away  who  had  come  so  far  on  such  a  mission. 

He  appeared  before  the  convalescent,  grinning 
all  over. 

"  She  comee.'' 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  turned  and  raised  him- 
self on  his  elbow  and  eyed  the  Chinaman  suspici- 
ously. 

^^  She!— who's  she?" 

Foo  grinned  harder  than  ever.  "  She !  she 
comee  longee ;  she  wantee  talkee  Sheliff  Wasco." 

"  She  wants  to  talk  with  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco, 
does  she?    She  came  a  long  way,  did  she?  " 

The  Sheriff  meditated.  There  was  a  girl 
away  back  in  Wasco  once,  who  had  with  remark- 
ably good  taste  been  smitten  with  him,  but  whom 
he  had  carefully  tried  to  avoid  to  prevent  a  scene. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  Ill 

He  Lad  not  seen  her  for  years,  but  he  dreaded 
her  attentions,  and  hearing  that  she  had  moved 
Korth  about  a  year  before,  he  had  felt  some  un- 
easiness.   He  was  doubly  uneasy  now. 

He  caught  Foo  by  the  collar  of  his  blouse  and 
whispered :  "  Tell  the  lady  I'm  an  Italian,  and 
don't  know  her.    Tell  her  I'm  dying." 

Yang  Foo  thought  this  singular,  but  he  toddled 
out  and  told  Myra  that  the  Italian  was  dying. 

The  tears  came  to  the  girl's  eyes  as  she  gently 
tiptoed  towards  the  cabin,  and  cautiously  looked 
into  the  gloom. 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  saw  her  and  realized 
instantly  that  something  must  be  done.  This 
was  the  girl  he  loved,  though  he  loved  her  with- 
out hope,  knowing  his  own  poor  place  in  the 
world's  affairs.  Besides,  all  the  reasons,  wise  or 
foolish,  that  had  prevented  him  before  from  de- 
claring himself  to  her  were  still  in  force;  and 
therefore  he  brought  himself  to  a  sudden  and 
marvellously  quick  realization  that  he  had  bet- 
ter be  Hardeman  again.  He  must  stifle  the  grow- 
ing flame  of  love  that  had  kindled  in  his  breast ; 
he  must  be  strong;  he  must  away  with  the  idea. 
His  sphere  in  life  was  one  that  could  not  and 
should  not  touch  hers. 

His  lips  moved  as  he  saw  her  face  peering  at 
him  from  the  doorway.  It  was  a  face  showing 
the  shadow  of  her  late  experience,  and  gentle 


178  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

with  human  kindness.  It  was  beautiful  and 
sweet,  and  it  radiated  the  spirit  of  young 
womanhood. 

"  Miss  Thorn — come  in ! "  he  said  in  a  voice 
of  mingled  surprise  and  joy. 

She  hesitated  at  the  curious  accent.  It  was 
familiar  certainly,  and  just  as  certainly  not  that 
of  any  ordinary  Italian.  And  its  owner  was  not 
dying — that  was  a  blunder  on  Yang  Foo's  part 
evidently.  She  stepped  past  the  threshold  and 
gazed  at  the  invalid;  then  she  stepped  back  in 
fright  and  amazement. 

"  Mr.  Hardeman  ? — you — ^you  here  ?  " 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  turned  painfully  towards 
her  and  she  saw  he  was  utterly  helpless.  Fright 
vanished  and  a  feeling  of  dismay  seized  her,  and 
she  sat  down  on  a  chair  and  gazed  at  him.  How 
pale  and  wan  he  looked,  and  how  thin ;  and  still 
there  was  that  twinkle  in  his  eyes  that  had  so 
attracted  her  when  he  brought  her  back  to  civil- 
ization. 

"  Yes,  I'm  here  for  keeps,  I  guess,"  drawled 
the  sick  man  melodiously.  "  Serves  me  right. 
Miss  Thorn — as  you're  thinking,  no  doubt.  I'll 
never  do  it  again,  though — certain." 

"  You'll  never  steal  a  woman  again  ? "  she 
faltered,  not  knowing  exactly  what  to  say  next; 
but  then  she  rallied.  "  I'm  afraid  you're  fatally 
hurt,  Mr.  Hardeman." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  179 

The  Sheriff's  heart  smote  him,  but  he  threw  a 
most  Hardeman  like  harshness  into  his  voice. 
"  Your  opinion  of  me  is  a  bad  one,  lady.  I  must 
be  fatally  hurt  never  to  steal  a  woman  again — 
eh?"  He  chuckled.  ^'Sinners  have  been  known 
to  repent,  Miss  Thorn,  and  I  certainly  am  sinner 
enough  to  start  in  on  that  line —  what  do  you 
think  ?  " 

''  I  think  that  if  you  get  well  and  become  a 
good  man,  as  we  said,  you'll  never  regret  it,"  she 
said  gently.  After  all  there  was  good  in  him. 
She  had  seen  it  many  a  time. 

He  shook  his  head  sadly,  this  Sheriff  of  Wasco, 
and  groaning  just  enough  to  bring  an  excla- 
mation of  pity  from  her,  remarked : 

"  If  I  get  well  I'll  be  hanged.  These  boys  will 
learn  my  identity— and  I'd  better  die  easy  like." 

"  Don't  they  suspect  who  you  are  ?  "  she  asked 
cautiously. 

"  They  think  they  know,"  nodded  the  invalid. 
"  They  think  I'm  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco,  and  that 
Hardeman  shot  me.  But  you  know  better,  don't 
you?    Upon  you  hangs  my  life  or  death." 

It  would  be  wrong  to  say  as  he  met  her 
shocked  eyes,  that  the  reprobate  was  altogether 
unhappy.  He  grinned  over  the  picture  of  his 
wickedness,  but  he  pulled  a  blanket  over  his 
mouth  and  chin  first,  and  poor  Myra,  after  a  mo- 


180  TEE  SEERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

mentary  suspicion,  decided  he  was  suffering,  and 
her  face  saddened  in  pity. 

"  You  see,"  he  continued  lugubriously,  "  it's 
your  duty  to  civilization  to  expose  me;  to  tell 
them  that  I'm  that  blood-dyed  villain  Harde- 
man. And  of  course  you've  got  to  do  it.  And 
they  won't  give  me  a  chance  to  reform.  They'll 
hang  me,  and  I  guess  that's  what  I  deserve  any- 
way." He  sighed  the  sigh  of  a  badly-wounded 
and  generally-despondent  man. 

Myra  was  a  thorough  woman. 

"  Duty,"  she  said  scornfully.  "  You  stole  me, 
but  you  brought  me  back — didn't  you?  I'll 
stand  by  the  secret — duty  or  no  duty." 

The  sick  man  shook  his  head  in  a  melancholy 
way.  "  Forgive  me — but  you're  a  woman,"  his 
voice  cracked  queerly,  and  he  forbore  to  look  at 
her  outraged  face.  "  A  good  sweet  woman,"  he 
added  hastily,  ^'  — and  you  don't  know  half  my 
Climes.  When  I  think  of  what  I  am  this  minute 
— I  know  I  richly  deserve  hanging.  No,  ma'am, 
far  better  if  I  don't  get  well." 

Myra  stamped  her  foot  indignantly. 

"  Yes,  I'm  a  w^oman,  but  I  can  keep  a  secret. 
And  I  will,  if  you  will  honestly  try  to  reform  and 
get  well  again." 

"  Get  well !  Why  should  you  care  a  continen- 
tal whether ?  "  he  paused,  the  sick  hypocrite. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  181 

and  turned  the  flash-light  of  his  graj-blue  eyes 
on  her  inquiringly. 

"  Oh,"  she  said  scathingly,  "  because  then 
you'd  get  out  of  the  country.  I  want  to  know 
you're  a  thousand  miles  from  here  at  least. 
Don't  get  it  into  your  head  that  I'm  falling  in 
love  with  you.  I  assure  you  I  would  not  have 
come  within  ten  miles  of  you  if  I  had  known  it 
was  you." 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  gazed  at  the  ceiling  in 
silence.  It  cost  him  no  effort  to  assume  the 
look  of  desolation  and  misery  that  suddenly 
crept  across  his  face.  SJie  fall  in  love  with  him? 
— Of  course  not.  But  to  wish  him  a  thousand 
miles  awav  from  her  I  That  stuns:  intolerablv. 
And  he  had  certainly  behaved  abominably  in  his 
conception  of  a  difficult  duty,  and  had  earned 
her  contempt. 

Myra  saw  the  expression  and  her  heart  mis- 
gave her.  ^^  I  didn't  mean  that.  I  was  cruel. 
Of  course  I  would  come  to  see  anybody  who 
"was  hurt,"  she  said  relentingly. 

He  nodded.  "  Yes ;  you'd  have  come  to  see  a 
dog  if  it  was  hurt."  There  was  an  element  of 
bitterness  in  his  voice,  and  she  did  not  answer. 
He  pulled  himself  back  to  his  duty  with  a  vio- 
lent wrench.  Raising  himself  on  his  elbow  he 
looked  at  her,  and  if  the  part  he  meant  to  play 
was  Hardeman's,   the  half-sad  mockery  of  his 


182  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

laugh  was  entirely  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco's  own 
production. 

"  You  see,  ma'am,  I'm  so  much  worse'n  a  dog 
it  worries  me  to  see  you  wastin'  time  tryin'  to 
convert  me.  I'm  just  gone  to  the  bad — abso- 
lutely. I'm  goin'  to  be  hanged  as  soon  as  I'm 
well — "  here  he  dropped  his  voice  to  a  terrify- 
ing earnestness  "  — so  I'm  just  goin'  to  kill  a 
few  of  these  fellows  'round  here  first,  and  escape 
to  the  wild,  unrestrained  life  of  a  man  without  a 
conscience !  " 

Myra  jumped  to  her  feet  in  alarm. 

"  Don't  kill  anyone,"  she  cried  in  terror. 
"  Get  away  as  soon  as  you  can — and  try — try — 
oh,  do  try,  Mr.  Hardeman — do  try  to  be  good." 

Deeply  afraid  of  what  his  combined  wicked- 
ness and  despair  might  lead  him  to  do,  she  ap- 
proached his  bed,  extending  her  hand  spontan- 
eously, and  whispering :  "  I'll  pray  for  you,  Mr. 
Hardeman — Goodbye." 

He  greedily  seized  the  proffered  hand  and 
clasped  it  most  gently  in  his  own.  It  was  so 
delicate,  so  w^arm,  so  lovely — ^he  closed  his  eyes 
for  a  moment  in  furious  shame. 

"  Don't  pray  for  Hardeman,  Miss  Thorn,"  the 
voice  and  the  expression  were  ferocious.  "  Pray 
for  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco;— he  needs  it." 

"  Oh — what?  "  she  pulled  her  hand  back,  and 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  183 

pressed  it  against  her  cheek,  looking  at  him  fear- 
stricken.  '^  Are  you  going  to  murder  him?  Oh 
— I'm  afraid  I've  done  wrong  to  promise  you  any- 
thing/^ and  greatly  perturbed  she  turned  her 
back  on  him  and  walked  out  of  the  cabin. 

Left  alone  the  invalid  stared  at  the  ceiling  for 
a  minute  or  two,  while  a  thousand  expressions 
chased  each  other  across  his  face. 

^'  It's  a  shame.  It's  a  downright  shame —  but 
what  could  I  do?"  he  asked  angrily.  Then 
reaching  out  for  some  tobacco  from  the  little 
table  at  the  head  of  his  bunk,  he  rolled  and 
lighted  a  cigarette  and  began  puffing  away,  the 
old  dare-devil  humor  returning  irresistibly. 
"  Murder  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  I  It  won't  be  nec- 
essary. I'll  bet  she'll  be  ready  to  do  it  herself; 
she'll  be  as  mad  as  a  hornet  when  she  finds  out. 
—And  it's  just  as  well  for  me,"  he  brooded  sav- 
agely as  he  blew  a  wreath  of  blue  smoke  towards 
the  rafters.  "  It's  just  as  well  for  me-^amn 
it!" 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ON  THE  RAMPAGE. 

Myra  was  in  a  most  distressed  state  of  mind 
when  she  arrived  in  Hilltown.  Here  was  Harde- 
man passing  as  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  to  the  men 
at  the  camp,  and  she  had  foolishly  promised  to 
keep  his  secret. 

There  was  no  use  believing  in  his  reformation. 
She  was  not  sure  he  was  sincere;  and  far  too 
much  was  at  stake.  Now  that  she  viewed  it  all 
from  afar,  she  realized  that  she  was  doing  a  great 
wrong  to  justice  not  to  reveal  the  true  state  of 
affairs  as  she  saw  it. 

While  her  outlaw  had  undoubtedly  been  kind 
to  her  during  those  last  hours  she  was  in  his 
hands,  still  that  should  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  case.  He  was  a  notoriously  wicked  man, 
who  was  wanted  for  many  other  offenses.  And 
to  think  that  he  now  dared  to  pose  as  the  Sheriff 
of  Wasco!  Her  dilemma  was  great.  She  had 
learned  to  have  a  vague  admiration  for  him  on 
that  memorable  journey  home,  and  now  he  was 

184 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  185 

very  sick  and  literally  at  her  mercy.  As  she 
thought  of  it,  to  betray  him  seemed  treachery. 
She  could  not  reason  fairly  what  course  to  pur- 
sue. 

More  and  more  angrily  she  told  herself  that  it 
served  her  right  for  going  around  risiting  sick 
and  unknown  persons ;  and  more  and  more  hotly 
she  blamed  herself  for  her  present  awkward  fix. 
And  she  had  promised  to  pray  for  this  outlaw! 
And  he  had  audaciously  advised  her  to  pray  for 
the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  instead!  That  meant,  of 
course,  that  the  Sheriff  would  be  shot  at  the  first 
opportunity.  If  she  let  Hardeman  get  away  she 
would  be  directly  responsible  for  a  murder. 

She  thought  and  thought;  but  the  more  she 
thought  the  deeper  became  her  conviction  that 
duty  to  others  compelled  her  to  ignore  her  own 
feelings  and  her  rash  promise,  and  to  have  Harde- 
man held.  She  cried  over  it  till  her  eyes  were 
red,  and  finally  in  despair  decided  that  she  would 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it  to  her  father. 

Mr.  Thorn  noticed  at  supper  that  his  daughter 
was  in  a  very  depressed  state,  but  he  attributed 
it  to  her  tender  heart,  and  her  worry  over  the 
poor  injured  woodman. 

After  supper,  however,  she  came  to  him  as  he 
sat  on  the  doorstep,  watching  the  play  of  colors 
on  the  distant  peaks,  and  stealing  her  hand  into 
his  sat  down  by  his  side. 


186  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

"What's  doing  now,  Mjra?''  queried  the  wise 
gentleman.    ^'  How  much  is  it  this  time?  " 

"  Nothing — Fm  in  need  of  advice,  dad — that's 
all." 

"  Advice?    All  right,  daughter.    Go  ahead." 

"  I've  got  a  secret,"  whispered  Myra.  "  Father, 
is  a  woman's  promise  made  in  haste  to  be  lived 
up  to?  "  she  asked  solicitously. 

"  That  depends,"  said  Mr.  Thorn  judicially. 
"  Anyone  been  proposin'  to  you,  Myra." 

"  Oh  hush,  father.  No,  indeed.  A  man's  in 
trouble  and  I  promised  not  to  reveal  his  identity. 
And  I  should  do  so.  I'm  dreadfully  worried 
about  it." 

*^  You  reveal,  and  reveal  quick,  daughter," 
said  Mr.  Thorn.    "  What  is  it?  " 

"  The  man  who  is  injured  at  the  camp  is  pos- 
ing as  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco." 

"You  don't  say!  And  he  isn't?  Y'ou  recog- 
nize him?  " 

"  Yes,  father,  he's  no  sheriff.  He  wants  to  get 
away  easily — and  I  promised  not  to  tell. 

"  Who  is  he,  daughter?  " 

"  He's  Hardeman." 

Mr.  John  Thorn  bounded  to  his  feet  in  an  in- 
stant. 

"  Hardeman?  and  pretending  he's  the  Sheri^? 
Eh?" 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  187 

"Yes,  the  men  think  he's  the  Sheriff;  and  he's 
only  waiting  to  get  strong  and  escape." 

Mr.  Thorn  took  his  daughter's  hand  in  his  and 
drew  her  to  him.  "  Promises  are  dangerous  mat- 
ters, Myra.  You  have  done  the  right  thing  in 
telling  me.  How  was  the  rascal?  Was  he 
decent?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  I  he  was  glad  to  see  me,"  she  said 
eagerly,  "and  he  seemed  to  want  to  do  better. 
Maybe  we'd  better  keep  quiet,  father.  He  was 
showing  his  good  side,  that  side  that  makes  him 
so  different  from  an  outlaw." 

"  By  Christopher  I  Why,  he  was  fooling  you, 
Myra.  Leave  him  to  me,"  said  her  father 
brusquely. 

She  seized  his  arm  and  looked  at  him  entreat- 
ingly.  "  Remember  he  did  not  harm  me,  father. 
— Remember/^ 

John  Thorn  ground  his  teeth.  "Yes,  I'll 
remember.  He  won't  pay  for  that  offense;  I'll 
give  the  devil  his  due.  But  he'll  hang  all  the 
same.  It's  my  paramount  duty  to  go  and  see 
Butts  this  instant." 

The  stage  was  rumbling  in  the  distance  and 
Mr.  Thorn  caught  it  with  difficulty.  But  once 
inside  he  ensconced  himself  in  the  furthest  cor- 
ner, coofitatino:  excitedlv  over  the  tremendous 
sensation  he  was  about  to  spring  on  the  unsus- 
pecting camp. 


188  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

When  he  arrived  there,  puffing  and  blowing,  lie 
took  Butts  aside  and  whispered  to  him  that  the 
sick  man  was  a  fraud  and  a  villain. 

The  captain,  who  knew  of  Myra's  visit,  under- 
stood in  a  moment.  Listening  gravely  he  sug- 
gested that  Mr.  Thorn  take  a  look  at  the  man  in 
the  hospital. 

"  If  he  ain't  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco,  but  that  man 
Hardeman,  we'll  have  to  treat  him  according  to 
what  he  is — seeing  as  how  he  has  fooled  us,"  said 
Butts. 

So  while  Mr.  Thorn  strutted  off  to  interview 
the  impostor,  the  captain  collected  the  men  and 
imparted  to  them  that  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco, 
having  evidently  failed  to  clear  his  identity  to 
Miss  Thorn,  was  about  to  be  exposed  by  her 
father. 

They  all  grinned  at  the  prospect  of  a  splendid 
entertainment. 

"  And  if  he  sticks  to  his  outlaw  story  with  the 
old  gent,  then  let's  make  him  sorry,"  suggested 
Mr.  Jenks  gleefully.  "  We'll  treat  him  like  an 
outlaw,  you  bet.  And  we  won't  let  the  old  man 
know  he  ain't,  neither." 

To  this  they  assented  cordially.  It  was  just 
what  they  needed  to  make  variety.  They  would 
treat  the  Sheriff  outrageously  and  make  Mr. 
Thorn  responsible.  The  Sheriff  was  well  enoogb 
now  to  stand  a  joke  or  two.    Well,  they  wiKild 


TEE  SHERIFF  OF  TFA^CO.  189 

just  see  how  long  he  could  be  made  to  tolerate 
one. 

Mr.  Thorn  entered  the  cabin  hospital  and 
looked  at  the  Sheriff  carefully  by  the  light  of  the 
lantern  on  the  table.  This  outlaw  was  surely  a 
big  handsome  fellow  enough.  That  did  not  sig- 
nify, of  course,  but  it  was  slightly  embarrassing. 

"  Well,  I  came  to  see  you,"  exclaimed  the  visi- 
tor suddenly,  panting  for  breath. 

"  Charmed,  I  am  sure,"  and  the  Sheriff  ex- 
tended his  hand.  "  But  what  do  you  call  your- 
self? " 

"  Never  you  mind  who  I  am,"  retorted  the  wor- 
ried gentleman,  ignoring  the  proffered  hand.  "  I 
am  here  to  identify  you,  sir.    You're  a  fraud." 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  sat  up  on  an  elbow  and 
rolled  a  cigarette.  "  Would  you  call  me  a  fraud 
if  I  were  quite  recovered?  "  he  drawled.  And 
he  looked  searchingly  at  Mr.  Thorn,  his  eyes 
seeming  to  pierce  that  gentleman  through  and 
throucch,  while  the  lines  on  his  face  hardened  per- 
ceptibly. 

Myra's  father  faltered.  Then  he  remembered 
the  righteousness  of  his  cause  and  blurted  out. 

"  You're  living  here  under  false  pretenses,  sir. 
Y'ou're  not  the  Sheriff  of  W^asco." 

"  Why,  you  seem  to  be  stirred  by  some  sort  of 
a  deep,  playful  emotion,  Mr.  Stranger.  Take  a 
seat,"  said  the  invalid. 


190  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

Mr.  Thorn  was  glad  to  sit  down.  Being  some- 
what cooled  off  by  his  reception  he  scarcely  knew 
what  to  say  next.  Outside  in  the  darkening 
vista  of  the  door  he  perceived  dim  forms  and 
knew  that  the  men  were  listening. 

" Seems  to  me  you're  a  comediaii/'  re- 
marked the  invalid  slowly. 

The  visitor  gasped  in  chagrin  and  anger. 
"And  you're  Hardeman  the  outlaw/'  he  splut- 
tered. 

In  an  instant  the  Sheriff  realized  that  this  fat 
and  hearty  old  gentleman  before  him  must  be 
the  father  of  the  girl  he  had  saved.  Miss  Myra 
Thorn  had  grown  tired  of  praying  for  the  outlaw, 
and  had  told  her  father  all  about  it.  To  deny 
now  that  he  was  Hardeman  would  be  extremely 
embarrassing  and  might  lead  to  questions  of  why 
and  wherefore,  which  the  Sheriff  had  no  inten- 
tion of  discussing— least  of  all  with  the  girl's 
father.  If  the  patrolmen  had  decided  that  love 
was  the  cause  of  his  reticence,  how  would  the 
matter  appear  to  astute  Mr.  John  Thorn? 

He  sank  down  into  his  bunk  and  thought  hard 
for  a  moment  or  two. 

^'  You're  evidently  the  lady's  governor.  Well, 
you'd  better  string  me  up  quick,  sir." 

''You're  Hardeman?  You  dare  confess  it,'^ 
gasped  the  old  man  triumphantly. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  191 

"  Sure  as  you're  John  Thorn,  the  corpulent 
millionaire.'' 

The  visitor  shifted  uneasily  and  eyed  the  sick 
one  with  momentary  suspicion  ere  he  launched 
forth  pompously. 

"  It's  my  duty,  sir,  to  give  you  up  to  these  men. 
While  I  fully  appreciate  that  you  brought  my 
daughter  back  safely,  you  are  still  at  heart  a 
demon.  A  demon,  sir,  and  you  are  wanted  for 
so  many  crimes  that  to  keep  your  identity  secret, 
and  share  in  your  contemplated  escape,  w^ould  be 
criminal." 

The  Sheriff  turned  towards  the  speaker  and 
looked  at  him  in  undisguised  admiration. 

"  Say,  if  I  could  talk  like  that  I'd  quit  being 
an  outlaw.    I'd  start  in  to  be  a  bunco  steerer." 

Stout  John  Thorn  twitched.  This  nonchalant 
young  reprobate  was  altogether  too  lively.  Ris- 
ing, he  beckoned  to  the  men  outside  and  called 
them  in. 

"  This  man  acknowledges  he  is  the  outlaw 
Hardeman,  and  not  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco,"  said 
Mr.  Thorn. 

Butts  started  backward  in  feigned  surprise,  and 
the  ring  of  confederates  standing  round  growled 
in  what  appeared  to  be  the  deepest  amazement. 
Then  the  leader  advanced  to  the  bunk  and  bent 
a  ferocious  glare  on  the  defenceless  Sheriff. 


192  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

"  Which  is  it,  young  feller?  '^  he  demanded. 
^^  Out  with  it.     Give  it  to  us  straight." 

The  Sheriff  knew  instinctively  that  some 
scheme  was  afoot,  but  he  remained  silent. 

"Which?"  demanded  several  of  the  men. 
"  Which  are  you?  " 

The  Sheriff  glared  at  them  searchingly,  but  he 
saw  no  sign  of  fun.  Then  with  a  sarcastic  twist 
of  his  upper  lip  he  answered : 

"  You  genteel  group  of  children,  I'm  the  out- 
law Hardeman,  of  course." 

The  captain  rose  to  his  duty.  He  issued  a 
harsh,  reverberating  command,  and  two  men 
stepped  forward  and  bound  the  Sheriff's  legs  in 
silence.  Then  he  walked  away  with  Mr.  John 
Thorn,  promising  loudly  that  the  villain  should 
be  given  over  to  the  proper  authorities  without 
delay. 

So  Myra's  father  went  back  to  Hilltown,  feel- 
ing that  his  duty  as  a  citizen  had  been  done ;  and 
the  moment  he  was  gone  the  plotters  collected 
outside  the  cabin  door  and  inquired  feelingly 
of  the  prisoner  how  he  enjoyed  being  Hardeman 
now. 

The  outraged  Sheriff  answered  never  a  word, 
but  ground  his  teeth  in  silence,  while  he  medi- 
tated revenge?  Mr.  Jenks  dropped  into  the 
cabin  and  sitting  beside  him,  asked  sympatheti- 
cally if  he  could  do  anything  to  alleviate  his 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  193 

inner  thoughts.  And  then  Butts  returned  and 
announced  that  inasmuch  as  the  invalid  per- 
sisted in  being  Hardeman,  his  diet  would  here- 
after consist  of  water  and  bread  and  no  cigar- 
ettes. 

He  stooped  towards  the  table  to  remove  the 
tobacco  as  he  made  the  remark,  and  like  a  flash 
the  Sheriff  whirled  towards  him  and  seized  him 
bj  his  collar.  The  same  instant  he  drew  his 
heavy  revolver  from  under  his  pillow  and  pre- 
sented it  at  Butts'  astonished  face. 

'^  Look  a-here,"  said  the  slow,  melodious  voice 
of  the  Sheriff,  ^^  I'm  good-natured  enough — but 
I  have  fits  of  excitement  once  in  a  while.  I  feel 
one  a  coming  now." 

Butts  struggled  earnestly  to  get  away. 
''  Sheriff,  it's  only  a  joke,"  he  protested  smiling. 
^'We  boys  thought  we'd  enjoy  ourselves  a 
bit." 

''  So  you  will,  all  right,"  echoed  the  Sheriff. 
"  Now,  boys,  remember  I  said  I  was  to  be  Harde- 
man to  that  young  lady.  That  means  to  her 
father  too.  It's  just  my  own  personal  desire  and 
it's  none  of  your  blamed  business.  Savvy?  "  he 
inquired  sweetly. 

Everybody  echoed :  '^  Sure ! "  and  the  speaker 
released  Butts,  who  backed  away  to  the  wall. 

"  Now  that  we  quite  understand  each  other," 
continued  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco,  "and  just  to 


194  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

show  that  I  fully  appreciate  your  kind  treatment 
of  me,  I'm  going  to  celebrate." 

Bang — bang,  went  the  heavy  revolver,  and 
chips  flew  from  the  log  wall  on  either  side  of  the 
captain's  head.  Bang — ^bang,  and  one  bullet 
grazed  his  shoulder  and  the  other  pierced  the 
side  of  his  coat.  Bang,  and  the  dilapidated 
water-pitcher  on  the  shelf  flew  to  pieces.  Butts 
and  the  boys,  emitting  discordant  and  unearthly 
yells',  disappeared  in  a  wild  scramble.  The 
Sheriff  fired  his  last  shot  through  the  looking 
glass  on  the  wall,  and  then  turning  over  pulled 
the  blanket  around  him,  smiling  to  himself. 

Without,  the  patrolmen  gathered  around  their 
leader,  whooping  in  glee  as  he  gingerly  inspected 
his  damaged  coat.  The  captain  looked  foolish 
for  a  moment ;  then  he  turned  to  Yang  Foo,  who 
came  trotting  in  haste  from  the  kitchen,  and  bel- 
lowed : 

"  Give  that  wild  coyote  in  there  anything  he 
wants — whiskey  or  milk.  He's  sure  gone  ram- 
paginous." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   REVELATION. 

So  the  dangerous  outlaw  Hardeman  haying 
been  safely  arrested,  Mr.  Thorn,  who  had  not 
been  a  spectator  at  the  later  half  of  the  perform- 
ance, went  home  and  told  his  daughter  all  about 

it. 

"  You've  done  your  duty  to  the  State,  Myra. 
Don't  give  yourself  any  regrets  about  it.  Why 
the  rascal  declared  he  was  just  as  surely  Harde- 
man as  I  was  a  corpulent  millionaire.  Right  to 
my  face.    Call  him  penitent?  " 

Myra  smiled  at  her  outraged  parent;  but  in- 
wardly she  was  uneasy.  She  was  dissatisfied 
with  herself.  Her  heart  misgave  her  lest  after 
all  she  had  been  too  hasty,  yet  she  could  find  no 
foundation  for  this  feeling  except  an  uncon- 
fessed  liking,  utterly  and  painfully  out  of  place 
in  the  case.  There  were  moments  on  that  jour- 
ney home  when  she  had  thought  extremely  well 
of  her  outlaw— who  had  fought  for  her  and 
guarded  her,  and  had  seemed  sometimes,  enigma 

195 


196  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

that  hie  was,  to  be  even  better  than  other  men. 
Two  weeks  of  reflection  and  cool  judgment,  even 
his  wild  iniquitous  outburst  of  yesterday,  had 
failed  to  dim  that  impression  or  render  his  mem- 
ory less  romantic. 

After  a  week  of  waiting,  in  which  she  had 
hoped  in  vain  for  some  news  from  the  camp,  she 
went  up  there  one  afternoon  determined  to  learn 
all  the  details  for  herself. 

She  got  her  information  before  she  reached 
the  camp.  For  seated  on  a  log  at  a  turn  of  the 
trail,  his  back  towards  her,  was  Commander 
Butts,  and  with  him  was  the  man  whom  Butts 
had  solemnly  arrested  a  full  week  before  at  the 
request  of  her  innocent  father. 

As  Myra  stood  there  petrified,  but  dimly  di- 
vining by  the  memory  of  certain  shadowy  and 
nameless  suspicions  the  meaning  of  this  sight, 
she  heard  Butts  say  persuasively : 

''  Sheriff,  don't  you  do  it.  Don't  you  be  in 
too  big  a  hurry  goin'  after  that  skunk  Harde- 
man. Give  your  wound  another  week.  Ain't 
you  got  a  piece  o'  business  to  look  afte-  here  in 
Hilltown  first,  anyway?  " 

Spellbound  by  sudden  conviction,  Myra  waited 
for  that  other  voice. 

"  No,  I  must  get  Hardeman  first.  I've  made  a 
blamed  fool  of  myself,  Butts.  I  wish  to  thunder 
I'd  never Doggone  it,  kick  me,  won't  you?" 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  197 

Butts  affectionately  thumped  tlie  buckskin- 
clad  shoulder. 

"  I'd  kick  Tou  clear  back  to  Wasco,  Sheriff,  if 
'twould  help  YOU,''  he  laughed.  "  'Twould  sure 
help  my  feelin's  about  the  way  you've  conducted 
that  there  business.  Want  to  hear  a  friend's 
advice?  " 

"What's  the  use?" 

"  Go  right  down  and  see  her  and  have  it  out 
with  her.     Maybe  she'll  forgive  you." 

It  was  a  thoroughly  enlightened  and  wrathful 
Myra  now.  And  it  was  certainly  a  most  unlucky 
Sheriff. 

"  Great  guns,  man  I  She'd  be  madder  than  a 
wet  hen,"  he  exploded. 

"Oh  I  Oh!— how  dare  you?"  gasped  Myra. 
The  heads  of  the  two  conspirators  slewed  round 
together  as  though  they  were  loose,  and  the  grin 
of  appreciation  literally  froze  on  Butts'  face  at 
what  he  saw  behind  him. 

But  that  apparition's  flashing  eyes  and  crim- 
soned cheeks  were  not  for  him.  but  for  his  dumb 
companion. 

"  So  you—  you  are  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco,''  she 
said  in  a  hushed,  soft,  utterly  withering  sort  of 
voice. 

They  could  no  more  affirm  the  fact  than  they 
could  deny  it,  and  their  very  humiliation  helped 


198  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

the  girl.     She  seemed  to  tower  above  their  con- 
victed ague-stricken  backs. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  know,''  she  said,  growing  col- 
lected. ^'  As  you  may  remember  I  rather  ad- 
mired the  Sheriff,  and  this  meeting  is  a  great 
pleasure.  I  mustn't  tell  you  how  great  a  pleas- 
ure— because  I  remember — I  remember  my  debt 
to  you  for  bringing  me  back."  Her  voice  told 
the  pleasure  exactly  if  he  needed  any  enlighten- 
ment. '^  I  know  you're  a  brave  man ;  I've  had 
proof  of  it,"  she  said.  ''  But  does  a  brave  man 
usually  take  advantage  of  a  terrified  girl's  mis- 
take to  make  her  a  laughing-stock  in  her  own 
eyes — and  afterwards  before  his  friends?  "  The 
scorn  of  her  voice  broke  in  a  slight  tremor 
as  she  thought  of  his  outrageous  "  wet  hen  '^ 
simile. 

The  Sheriff  had  risen  and  stood  beside 
Butts,  his  pale  cheeks  flaming.  His  eyes  rested, 
ashamed  but  steady,  on  the  girl's. 

"  Miss  Thorn,  don't  be  too  hard  on  him," 
pleaded  the  friendly  captain. 

"  You,"  breathed  Myra,  "  you  arrested  him, 
didn't  you?  "  and  Butts  collapsed. 

Her  accusing  gaze  returned  to  the  Sheriff. 

"  He  wore  a  mask. — I  was  a  dunce  of  course 
not  to  see  the  difference.  But  there  are  strong 
points  of  resemblance  between  you.  I  think  so 
still,"  she  said  slowly  and  with  bitter  meaning. 


TEE  SEERIFF  OF  WASCO.  199 

"  I  think  now  there  must  be  other  resemblances 
which  I  did  not  suspect  then." 

The  Sheriff  awoke  to  life.  "  You're  right, 
ma'am.  I  haven- 1  a  word  of  excuse,"  he  ad- 
mitted. 

The  sparkling  blue  eyes  of  his  judge  wavered. 
She  knew  how  unjust  that  last  stroke  of  hers 
was.  ''But  why  did  you  do  it?"  she  cried,  a 
hurt  sound  of  entreaty  creeping  in  with  the  in- 
dignation of  her  voice. 

"  I  didn't  know  you,"  he  answ^ered. 

They  were  speaking  to  each  other  alone. 
Butts  might  have  been  a  thousand  miles  away, 
as  he  devoutly  wished  himself.  Once  again  My- 
ra's  eyes  travelled  stormily  from  the  luckless 
Sheriff's  face  to  his  feet  and  back,  then  they 
changed. 

"  And  those  reforms  of  yours,"  she  cried  bit- 
terly. Then  grief  and  humiliation  swept  away 
half  her  anger.  ''Oh — how  could  you?  I 
thought  so  well  of  you.  I  might  have  forgiven 
you  if  it  weren't  for  that."  With  a  face  almost 
as  miserable  as  his  own  she  turned  and  walked 
swiftly  away  as  she  had  come. 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  waited  not  to  bid  adieu 
to  Butts.  With  determination  on  his  brow  he 
strode  down  the  trail  after  the  justly  offended 
lady. 

"  Jumpin'    crickets ! "    breathed   the   deserted 


200  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

commander,  looking  round  at  the  empty  sun- 
shine; then  virtuously,  "Well  he'd  oughter  be 
ashamed  of  himself.  Reforms,  eh !  After  that 
look  she  gave  him  I've  lost  my  sympathy  for 
him."  And  Mr.  Butts  betook  himself  hastily 
elsewhere. 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  at  that  moment  was 
standing  across  the  trail,  facing  a  stately,  im- 
placable girl,  unashamed  of  some  defiant  tears. 
War  breathed  between  them.  Too  proudly  hum- 
ble to  touch  her  hand  he  effectually  barred  her 
way,  his  arms  folded,  his  pale  face  kindled  with 
the  light  of  passion. 

"  You  cannot  go  like  this,"  he  said. 

"Why  cannot  I?"  she  flashed;  and  he  sim- 
ply and  tersely  changed  a  word :  "  You  shall 
not!" 

Myra  threw  up  her  head,  but  he  stood  there, 
all  stern  and  unabashed,  a  thunderstorm  of  love. 

"  Well?  "  she  said,  half  quailing. 

"  You  gave  Hardeman  his  chance,  Miss  Thorn, 
or  you  believed  you  did.  Be  fair  and  give  me 
mine — to  win  back  your  favor,"  he  begged  with 
masterful  entreaty. 

"  Your  chance — to  laugh  at  me  again? 
Thanks,"  she  said  cruelly,  felinely  enjoying  the 
knowledge  that  she  could  hurt  him  in  return. 

He  put  the  mean  little  taunt  aside. 

"  You  know  better  than  that."     Then  he  was 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  201 

suddenly  all  gentleness,  while  the  force  in  him 
enfolded  her  despite  her  angry  rebellion  against 
him.  ^'  I  can't  stand  having  you  mad  with  me. 
Now  here's  the  truth,  and  it's  been  hurting  me 
worse  than  it  has  you."  He  paused,  while  a  ten- 
der, humorous  gleam  shot  irresistibly  from  his 
eyes  into  her  vexed  ones.  "  Fact  is  I  was  a  fool 
not  to  think  of  sending  my  card  up  that  mesa 
ahead  of  me.  'Twould  have  saved  me  a  heap  of 
worry.'' 

Myra's  head  jerked,  but  he  saw  the  corners  of 
her  mouth  soften  for  his  verv  audacitv. 

"  The  result  was,  you  took  me  for  that  low 
thief  I'd  come  after.  I  didn't  understand  for  a 
minute;  and  when  I  did,  it  struck  my  tom-fool 
sense  of  humor  as  a  joke.''  He  waited,  but  Myra 
would  not  appreciate.  "  'Course  it  wasn't,"  he 
blandly  explained.  '^  I  ought  to  have  told  you 
I'd  missed  him  by  half  an  inch  and  was  swearing 
mad  until  I  found  you,  all  white  and  huddled  up 
and  frightened,  and  staring  at  me  as  if  I  was 
going  to  eat  you, — poor  little  lady." 

Here  memory  gave  the  citadel  of  feminine 
wrath  a  sharp  jolt.  Myra's  eyes  were  with- 
drawn. But  she  answered  tartlv :  "  Oh,  vou 
were  kind  enough.  I  ought  to  have  known  the 
difference,  I'll  admit." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  Don't  you  forget  those 
strong  points  of  resemblance  between  us." 


202  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

The  gentleness  of  the  answer  seemed  merely 
wishful  to  help  her  out.  But  its  quickness,  and 
a  certain  faint  note  of  reproach  in  it,  set  her 
ears  tingling  guiltily. 

"  I  certainly  ought  to  have  told  you  who  I 
was,''  he  resumed  remorsefully.  ''  There's  no 
sort  of  excuse  for  that  oversight. — But  you  see 
how  it  was.  I  happened  to  discover  what  a  heap 
you  thought  of  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco,  and  natur- 
ally I  couldn't " 

Decidedly  Myra\s  eyes  came  up  this  time.  "  I 
didn't,"  she  gasped  indignantly.  Just  as  sud- 
denly, however,  they  dropped  again.  '^  Why, 
you're  even  worse  than  I  thought  you  were,"  she 
declared. 

"  Oh,  pshaw — now  I  knew^  that  all  along,"  he 
drawled  melodiously,  smiling  at  her.  ^'  Couldn't 
be  as  good  as  that  Sheriff  of  Wasco,  nohow! 
Still  I'm  not  so  awful  bad  when  I'm  good. 
When  I'm  bad  I  ain't  real  noticeably  good, 
naturally.    That's  human." 

Was  the  audacious  creature  laughing  at  her? 
Myra's  ejes  flashed.  He  was  grinning  openly. 
She  would  have  passed  him,  only  that  he  still 
blocked  the  way. 

^'  That's  no  argument  for  a  grown  man.  From 
what  I  know  of  you  I  should  say  your  bad  streak 
was  uppermost  usually,"  she  stormed  with  an 
awful  falling  from  dignity.     ^'  You're  taking  a 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  203 

mean  advantage  now.  Let  me  pass.  I'm — I'm 
afraid  of  you,  sir." 

He  slouched  gracefully  forward  with  a  certain 
earnestness. 

"  You  afraid  o'  me? — You?  Why  that's  surely 
a  little  girl's  way  of  teasing  a  man.  Afraid  of 
me?  Do  you  remember  the  mesa,  and  when  I 
brought  you  home — the  day  and  the  night?  Do 
you  remember  when  you  slept,  and  I  watched 
you?  Why  you  weren't  even  afraid  of  him  you 
thought  Hardeman,  and  certain  sure  you're  not 
afraid  of  me."  His  voice  at  first  had  been  anx- 
ious and  uncertain,  but  he  saw  the  corners  of 
her  mouth  smile.  He  whispered  confidently. 
"  That's  a  bluff — a  great  big  bluff  of  yours,  isn't 
it?  "  and  then  he  laughed — a  low,  deep,  musical 
laugh,  but  so  infectious  that  Myra's  smile  broad- 
ened resistlessly.  "  Say, — truly,  didn't  I  make 
a  bird  of  an  outlaw?  "  he  inquired  joyously. 

"  I  most  got  twisted  sometimes.  Didn't  know 
I  could  be  so  good,"  he  declared.  "  When  I  saw 
you  asleep — "  he  hesitated,  but  Myra's  expres- 
sion was  certainly  not  forbidding,  at  least, — 
"  when  I  saw  you  asleep,  your  face  all  red  and 
white,  and  you  so  tired,  lying  there  with  your 
head  on  my  coat,  I  most  wished  I  was  that  out- 
law, by  heavens.  I  wanted  to  run  off  with  you 
myself.  But  no  I  I  was  so  doggoned  good  I 
watched  you  five  mortal  hours,  afraid  to  cough  or 


204  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

get  a  drink  of  water  lest  you'd  awake.  Say — 
you  will  take  that  back,  Miss  Thorn.  You're  not 
really  afraid  of  me,  are  you?  " 

It  w^as  an  unexpected  and  lovable  display  of 
the  youth's  uncertainty  and  humility  in  the  man, 
and  Myra  fell  deeply  in  love  with  it. 

"  Sheriff,  I  think  you're  just  the  w^orst  rascal 
I  ever  met,"  she  said,  and  smiling  laid  her  hand 
in  his. 

His  closed  swiftly  on  it,  and  there  was  a  mo- 
ment when  he  almost  said  certain  things  w^hich 
he  had  forbidden  himself.  The  next,  he  remem- 
bered he  was  but  a  sheriff,  with  his  six  hundred 
a  year  to  her  many  thousands,  and  his  absurd 
tin  cup  was  in  the  spring  nearby,  and  in  his  eyes 
was  only  a  smiling,  careless  dare-devil. 

"  Have  a  drink — ^have  one  on  me,"  he  said, 
passing  it  to  her. — ''  I'd  hate  like  thunder  to  have 
lost  your  friendship  by  that  darn  foolishness." 

She  drank,  her  eyes  smiling  at  him  across  the 
brim  and  full  of  promises  which  he  did  not  see, 
being  blinded  by  too  much  looking  on  his  pov- 
erty. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  VISIT  TO  HILLTOWN. 

As  the  days  passed  the  patrolmen  noticed  that 
the  Sheriff  improved  in  health,  and  they  also 
noticed  that  he  was  high-strung  and  anxious. 
They  rightly  attributed  it  to  an  intense  desire 
to  be  on  the  trail  again,  to  be  out  hunting  his 
quarry — to  do  things — and  they  sympathized 
with  him.  Occasionally,  however,  they  caught 
him  in  unfriendly  mood,  sitting  on  a  fallen  tree, 
or  walking  sullenly  alone;  then  they  smiled  fur- 
tively at  one  another,  and  proceeded  to  draw 
other  conclusions  quite  as  correct. 

"  Serve  him  plumb  right  gettin'  all  shook  up 
in  a  love  affair  he  ain't  got  sense  nor  gall  enough 
to  put  through.  Serve  him  plumb  right  for 
playin'  off  to  a  grateful  lady  as  that  low  wolf 
Hardeman.  Did  anybody  ever  hear  of  a  young 
feller  like  him  missin'  such  a  chance? — A  million- 
aire's daughter,  too !    Yah— Plumb  disgustin'  I  " 

This  was  from  Mr.  Jenks  of  Oregon,  in  his 
anxiety  for  his  oracle.  But  afterwards  the  cir- 
cle would  reconsider  and  hand  it  down  as  their 

205 


206  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

judgment  that  the  Sheriff  had  done  just  the 
white  thing,  and  in  their  extreme  friendliness 
would  openly  give  him  advice  as  to  how  to  pro- 
ceed. 

The  Sheriff  always  resented  their  impertinent 
suggestions. 

Seeing  at  last  it  was  no  use  baiting  him,  the 
men  got  together  and  made  a  pool  as  to  the  date 
and  the  time  of  day  when  the  Sheriff  would  go 
and  say  good-bye  to  Miss  Thorn.  They  were 
unanimously  of  the  opinion  that  he  would  have 
to  make  a  final  visit  at  least  to  square  himself. 
There  was  absolutely  no  way  out  of  that,  and 
they  might  just  as  wtII  bet  on  the  time  as  not; 
so  every  man  contributed  two  dollars  to  the  pot. 
There  was  something  like  fifty  dollars  to  win. 
They  watched  the  Sheriff's  movements  closely, 
and  every  time  that  he  started  out  of  camp  they 
took  the  time.  Somebody  was  going  to  win  two 
months'  salary,  and  so,  many  of  those  who  should 
have  been  sleeping  stayed  awake  half  the  night, 
watching  to  see  whether  the  Sheriff  would  make 
an  early  start  for  Hilltown.  The  camp  began 
to  get  nervous,  and  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  re- 
marked to  Butts  one  evening  that  the  men 
seemed  to  be  '^  allfired  nighthawks !  " 

"  Tell  you  how  it  is.  Sheriff,"  was  the  captain's 
answer,  "  the  men  are  all  so  worried  about 
your  goin'   after   that  there  outlaw  that  they 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  207 

can't  sleep.  Their  natures  air  so  highstrung 
that  they  hate  to  see  a  friend  take  chances." 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  grinned. 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  "  I've  got  to  go  soon, 
Butts.  But  before  I  go  I'm  going  to  Hilltown  to 
see  the  Thorns." 

Butts'  heart  gave  a  great  bound.  "  When  yer 
goin'  to  start.  Sheriff?"  he  asked,  the  words 
almost  choking  him  in  his  anxiety. 

"  To-morrow  at  eight,"  was  the  indifferent  an- 
swer,— '^  good  night." 

As  the  Sheriff  walked  away  to  his  bunk  the 
captain's  brain  grew  active.  He  kept  his  infor- 
mation to  himself  and  craftily  began  to  suggest 
to  the  boys  that  they  ought  to  raise  the  ante. 
What  was  the  use  of  having  a  pot  with  only  fifty 
dollars  in  it?  The  time  was  approaching  rapidly 
when  the  Sheriff  must  make  that  visit.  He 
surely  must  go  within  a  week.  Why  not  make 
the  excitement  greater? 

So  every  man  put  his  second  two  dollars  into 
the  pot,  and  his  new  guess  on  a  piece  of  paper 
and  dropped  it  into  a  tin  can.  Butts  lay  awake 
all  night. 

The  Sheriff  started  promptly  at  eight  fifteen 
next  morning,  for  Hilltown.  '^  To  buy  a  few 
cartridges,"  as  he  expressed  it.  He  was  scarcely 
out  of  sight  when  the  men  in  camp  made  a  wild 
swoop  onto  the  tin  can.    There  were  some  pretty 


208  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

close  guesses,  but  Butts  won.  He  had  one  guess 
'^  8.04  A.M."  with  the  correct  date. 

Everyone  felt  cheap  and  disgusted,  except 
Butts,  who  pocketed  the  coin,  and,  announcing 
that  he  would  be  back  in  a  week,  started  as  soon 
he  could  for  Seattle. 

The  men  thought  it  over  for  about  an  hour, 
and  then  they  began  to  expectorate  more  fre- 
quently than  usual,  and  to  hitch  up  their  trousers 
occasionally,  and  say,  "  damn ''  to  themselves. 

Finally  Jenks  mustered  courage. 

''  Seems  to  me,''  he  muttered,  ^'  Seems  to  me, 
boys.'' 

"  Yes,"  retorted  another,  "  — that's  what ! 
We've  been  buncoed. — Done  up." 

^'  We'll  lay  for  Butts,  we  will,"  they  chorused, 
"  and  we'll  cowhide  him." 

"  Naw  you  won't,"  exhorted  Jones,  "  Butts* 
just  got  it  out  o'  that  Sheriff ;  he  wormed  it  out, 
and  we  is  to  blame  for  being  fools  to  guess  again. 
You  can't  prove  anything  agin  Butts.  He  had 
two  guesses;  you  don't  know  which  one  he  put  in 
last — the  wrong  or  the  kerrect.  Butts  is  all 
right.    He's  got  the  brains.    We  is  the  suckers." 

They  were  a  disgusted  lot.  But  presently  as 
they  discussed  the  matter  they  were  thunder- 
struck to  see  Butts  returning  to  camp.  He  came 
towards  them  and  sat  dejectedly  down  on  a 
stumj). 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  209 

Jenks  moved  forward.  ^'  That  was  a  blamed 
good  guess  o'  journ,  Cap,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  Have 
you  come  back  here  to  make  good  ?  " 

Butts  shook  his  head  slowly.  "  Nothing  doing, 
boys,"  he  muttered;  "  nothing  doing.  I  do  sorter 
acknowledge  I  took  a  mean  advantage.  I  worried 
it  outer  the  Sheriff.  That  was  fair  enough 
though — you  all  had  the  same  chance — but  I've 
lost  the  dough." 

"  How  ?  "  chorused  the  men  as  they  gathered 
around.  "  How  did  you  lose  a  hundred  ker- 
plunks." 

^'  Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  and  the  Captain  began 
slowly.  "  I  got  a  mile  out  there  on  the  road 
when  a  feller  pulls  a  gun  on  me,  and  laughs  and 
says, 

"  Yer  a  darned  smart  fox,  Butts — but  you're 
wrong.  Fork  over  those  hundred  dollars  you  got 
by  gittin'  the  inside  track.  It's  mine  by  rights. 
I  set  the  time.  /  win.'^^ 

"  The  Sheriff  o'  Wasco  ?  " 

"  Sure  it  w^as.  And  he  reaches  down  and  per- 
litely  takes  the  hundred  outer  my  pockets;  and 
then  he  says :  "Go  back,  friend  Butts,  and  tell  the 
boys  to  await  my  return;  and  tell  'em  next  time 
they  make  a  pool  on  when  a  fellow's  goin'  to  see 
a  lady,  not  to  get  so  doggoned  sleepless  about 
it.    That  gives  'em  away." 

They  took  Butts  and  carried  him  to  the  cabin. 


210  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

Then  they  sat  around  the  tables,  drank  whiskey 
and  looked  sheepish  and  cursed  the  Sheriff  of 
Wasco.  But  finally  they  began  to  laugh  and 
grow  gleeful,  and  smash  things  in  their  un- 
bounded admiration  of  him ;  and  it  ended  with  a 
glorious  racket. 

The  Sheriff  meanwhile  had  arrived  in  sight 
of  Hilltown,  his  pockets  heavy  with  money  and 
his  face  abeam. 

He  grinned  to  himself  as  he  thought  of  the 
disconsolate  Butts  and  of  the  spree  that  was  to 
have  been  in  Seattle.  Then  he  began  to  look 
serious.  What  would  the  boys  do  to  him  when 
he  returned  to  the  camp?  How  w^ould  they  take 
the  joke?'' 

He  sat  down  on  a  fallen  stump  by  the  roadside 
and  laughed  aloud.  He  must  certainly  spend 
that  money,  every  cent,  before  he  got  back; 
otherwise  they  would  take  it  from  him  and  it 
wouldn't  do  anybody  any  good. 

He  glanced  through  the  trees  and  saw  that  only 
a  half  mile  below,  lower  on  the  foothills,  was 
Hilltown,  quiet  and  nestling,  surrounded  by 
cleared  fields,  and  profusely  adorned  with 
flowers.  Children  were  playing  in  the  distance, 
and  men  and  women  walking  about.  A  restful 
scene,  and  it  soothed  the  Sheriff  curiously  as  he 
sat  watching  it.  Then  he  looked  at  the  towering 
Olympics,  with  the  Devil's  Pass  in  the  distance, 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  211 

the  gigantic  boulders  and  serried  peaks  cutting 
clearly  into  the  sky,  wrapt  here  and  there  with 
mist  and  fleeting  clouds — and  the  restful  feeling 
vanished. 

He  shook  himself  and  instinctively  clutched 

his  rifle. 

^'  He's  not  gone  eastward.  He's  out  in  the 
mines,  with  that  gang  there.  "  I'll  wager  I'll  find 
him  out  there  beyond  the  tail  of  the  mountains 
near  the  ocean." 

A  deep  shadow  crossed  his  face.  His  jaws 
settled  firmly  together,  and  the  pleasant  vision 
of  Hilltown  faded  from  his  eyes.  He  saw  a 
certain  morning  down  in  Wasco,  the  deed  of 
horror  there  which  had  sent  him  forth  on  this 
quest  for  vengeance,  the  cheering  boys  as  they 
bade  him  good-bye. 

He  saw  the  long  tramp  through  the  Devil's 
Pass — alone  one  way — and  the  return  journey 
in  company  dangerous  but  all  too  dear  to  mem- 
ory. His  thoughts  slipped  away  to  her!  How 
angry  she  had  been  with  him  the  other  day ;  but 
afterwards,  in  her  forgiveness,  how  sweet  and 
womanly — how  altogether  desirable.  He  stood 
up  suddenly  and  stepped  out  on  the  trail 
again. 

"It's  time  to  say  good-bye,''  he  muttered 
gruffly.  "  Got  to  do  it.  I  haven't  any  real  right 
to  sit  in  a  love  game  with  her.     Not  me.     I'm 


212  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

strong  now,  and  mj  game  is  outlaws  and  sucli 
trash.'' 

Gloomily  he  plunged  along  but  suddenly  halted 
at  the  distant  voices  of  children. 

"  Kids/'  he  muttered,  as  he  swung  along  again, 
and  soon  beheld  a  boy  and  girl  and  a  go-cart. 
The  latter  was  made  of  a  couple  of  boards  with 
barrel  heads  for  wheels,  and  had  evidently  come 
to  grief  on  a  stone  in  the  road.  The  seven-year 
old  boy  was  trying  to  hammer  a  wheel  into 
position  with  a  piece  of  wood,  and  the  girl  was 
telling  him  he  was  wrong — entirely  wrong.  He 
ought  to  use  a  piece  of  stone. 

The  Sheriff  watched  them  a  moment,  then  he 
coughed.  "  Hello,  kids,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  can't 
you  gQi  that  wheel  a  revolutin'  right?"  The 
children  glanced  at  him,  and  the  girl  shielded 
herself  behind  her  brother  in  alarm.  The  boy 
breasted  the  stranger  bravely  and  demanded : 

"  Who's  you  ?  " 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  stepped  back.  "  Who's 
me?"  he  repeated,  ^' Who's  me?  Oh,  yes,  I  for- 
got— I'm  a  stranger.  I  don't  know  exactly  where 
I  am ;  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Thorn  in  Hilltown." 

The  children  saw  the  smile  on  the  Sheriff's  face 
and  felt  reassured. 

"  If  you's  bad  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco'll  get  you," 
exclaimed  the  boy.  The  Sheriff  laughed  melo- 
diously.    '^  Oh,  dear  me,  kids,   that  Sheriff  of 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  213 

Wasco  won't  let  any  bad  man  come  around  you. 
Now  you  just  let  me  ^x  that  there  wheel." 

He  stooped  and  turning  the  go-cart  upside 
down  knelt  by  it  and  pounded  the  wheel  on  the 
axle  with  his  bronzed  fist.  Then  he  got  a  small 
twig  and  shaped  it  into  a  pin  and  stuck  it  in 
place. 

"  How's  that  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  looking  approv- 
ingly at  his  work. 

The  little  girl  edged  sideways  towards  this 
agreeable  stranger  and  pulling  him  by  the  sleeve 
said  with  smiling,  upturned  eyes :  '^  Give  us  a 
ride — will  yer  ?  " 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  looked  at  her  a  moment, 
then  lifting  her  gently  placed  her  on  the  mended 
go-cart;  and,  as  the  boy  crawled  on  behind,  the 
man-hunter  seized  the  shaft  and  trundled  the 
pair  along  the  road.  He  glanced  back  once  or 
twice  laughingly : 

"  Eemember,  show  me  where  Mr.  Thorn  lives, 
will  you?  "  he  asked  of  his  juvenile  companions. 

"  Sure,"  responded  the  girl,  *^  He  lives  right 
next  to  our  house.  Go  faster,  please,  Mister 
Stranger."  So  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco,  Winchester 
in  hand,  bent  to  his  task  and  dragging  the 
two  in  the  go-cart  he  made  his  entry  into  Hill- 
town. 

The  town  noticed  the  handsome  stranger  and 
his  unusual  occupation  and  surmised  instantly 


214  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

that  he  was  the  much-talked-of  Sheriff  at  Butts' 
camp,  for  since  Myra's'  discovery  there  had  been 
no  occasion  to  conceal  his  identity.  The  man  was 
too  intent  on  his  work  to  see  that  he  was  the  cen- 
tre of  attraction;  and  stopping  suddenly  at  a 
command  from  the  little  girl  before  a  large  log 
cabin,  he  turned  to  his  young  friends. 

"  There  now,  kids,  how  was  it?  Here  you  are 
home." 

They  alighted,  and  he  helped  take  the  go-cart 
into  the  yard.  Then  the  little  girl  pulled  him  by 
the  sleeve. 

"  Come  along  now,''  she  lisped,  "  We'll  take 
you  to  see  Myra — that's  Miss  Thorn." 

And  led  by  the  two  the  big  young  Westerner 
walked  next  door  to  the  Thorns'  spacious  cabin, 
and  knocked;  and  Hilltown  was  ablaze  with 
suppressed  excitement. 

Mr.  Thorn  himself  answered  the  knock,  and 
the  two  guides  left  the  Sheriff  to  his  fate. 

It  threatened  to  be  a  harsh  one  at  first.  For 
face  to  face  with  Myra's  father  the  Sheriff,  sud- 
denly remembering  their  last  interview,  felt 
wholesome  shame  at  himself,  and  stood  hesitat- 
ing, and  growing  red.  "  You  see  how  it  is,"  he 
plunged  quickly,  "  I  came  to  see  you,  sir,  to  talk 
about  that  gold  mine  out  in  the  mountains,  that 
you're  interested  in." 

"  Humph ! "    stout    Mr.    Thorn   grunted ;    but 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  215 

his  eyes  twinkled  fast  and  his  face  shone  with 
repressed  pleasure  as  he  showed  the  tall  fellow 
to  a  chair  on  the  veranda  and  sat  down  himself. 
This  man  had  made  Mr.  Thorn  look  like  a  fool, 
but  he  had  also  brought  back  Mr.  Thorn's 
daughter,  and  the  old  man  had  no  score  against 

him. 

''  Seems  to  me,"  he  remarked,  passing  the  visi- 
tor a  cigar,  ''  now  I  see  you  in  daylight,  you 
look  more  like  a  sheriff  than  an  outlaw  after 

all." 

The  Sheriff  grinned  his  appreciation.  ''  That 
was  a  darn  fool  thing  for  me  to  do— now  wasn't 
it?  I  'most  died  when  Miss  Myra  gave  me  a 
laying  out  t'other  day.  And  say— Butts,  he  had 
a  silent  fit." 

Mr.  Thorn  bit  his  lip.  ''  You  needed  all  you 
got,  Sheriff,  and  I'll  have  to  get  square  with 
you  myself.  You  take  altogether  too  much  de- 
light in  calling  people  corpulent  millionaires," 
he  said  seriously. 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  colored  and  gripped  his 
knees  with  his  hands ;  then  he  laughed : 

"  If  I  was  a  millionaire,"  he  answered,  "  I 
wouldn't  care  what  a  sick  man  called  me  by  mis- 
take. I'd  say  he  was  too  sick  to  be  thoughtful. 
Anyhow,  I'd  forgive  him  sure " 

Mr.  Thorn  mentally  forgave  him  then  and 
there,  but  he  did  not  say  so.     Instead  he  in- 


216  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WA8C0, 

quired  what  the  Sheriff  wanted  to  know  about 
Ms  gold  mine. 

"  It's  this  way,  sir.  IVe  heard  you  and  Miss 
Thorn  are  going  out  there  soon.  Now,  I'd  like 
it  if  you  wouldn't." 

"  You'd  like  it  if  I  wouldn't,"  gasped  the 
astonished  host.     "  Y>^hy?    What's  up?" 

"  Just  this,"  the  blue-gray  eyes  took  on  their 
most  reserved  expression,  "  I'm  going  there  my- 
self. I  believe  the  outlaw  Hardeman  is  there 
from  certain  reasons  I've  figured  out.  I'm  going 
to  get  him  and  bring  him  back  if  he  is.  And  if 
he  won't  come,  you  see,  there's  going  to  be  a 
fight." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Thorn,  greatly  disturbed, 
"  and  we  have  arranged  to  go  this  week.  And 
my  daughter — well,  I'm  afraid  she  won't  take 
'  no '  for  an  answer,  unless  I  tell  her  the  facts. 
And  that  won't  do  at  all,  Sheriff.  She's  too 
frightened  already  of  that  outlaw." 

The  Sheriff  shook  his  head  decidedly.  "  Don't 
tell  her,  sir.  I  go  to-morrow  to  find  Talabam  the 
Indian  Chief.  He  will  show  me  the  old  trail 
across  the  mountains  to  the  mines.  Give  me  a 
few  days'  start,  and  then  you  can  follow,  and  put 
up  at  some  place  this  side  of  the  mines  till  you 
hear  from  me." 

"  Good  idea.  There's  Jones'  cabin,  ten  miles 
this  side.     We'll  stop  there,"  said  Mr.  Thorn, 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  217 

relieTed.  "  I'll  make  some  excuse  and  we'll  stay 
till  we  hear  from  you.'' 

"  From  me — or  of  me.  Stay  till  it's  settled," 
suggested  the  Sheriff  smoothly;  and  a  new  idea 
suddenly  struck  the  old  gentleman.  He  had  for- 
gotten the  danger  of  the  mission. 

"  You-re  taking  help  along,  Sheriff,''  he 
queried  earnestly. 

The  tall  young  Sheriff  looked  insulted.  "  To 
get  one  man,  sir?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

"  Well,  but  they're  not  a  nice  set  out  there, 
boy.     You'd  better  take  a  few  of  the  patrol." 

The  Sheriff  smiled  grimly.  '^  That  would 
mean  a  great  big  free  fight,  sir,  and  a  red  sky. 
The  boys  are  liable  to  get  sorter  excited.  If  I 
need  help  there's  Chief  Talabam." 

"  But  you  two  w^on- 1  tackle  that  gang  alone, 
will  you?  " 

"  Darn  the  gang — I'm  after  Hardeman,"  was 
the  laconic  answer,  and  the  older  man  was 
silenced.  Privately  he  hoped  that  the  Sheriff's 
theory  was  wrono:.  There  was  still  the  chance 
that  the  outlaw  had  betaken  himself  to  safer 
places. 

They  smoked  a  while  longer,  talking  of  many 
things — of  outlaws,  of  mines,  of  men,  and  of 
money  makins::  The  Sheriff  had  certain  re- 
served  virile  ideas  of  his  own  concerning  them, 
especially  the  last,  as  his  hearer  discovered  with 


218  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

secret  approval.  Mr.  Thorn  decided  that  he 
liked  this  tall,  lean,  rather  reticent  fellow, 
whose  strength  and  candor  and  unconscious 
courage  showed  in  speech  and  manner,  and  were 
written  captivatingly  all  over  him  when  he  was 
silent.  The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  was  a  gentleman 
of  the  wild  country,  a  man  among  the  finest,  yet 
at  the  same  time  full  of  undaunted,  open-hearted 
youth.  Could  a  father  forget  how  his  daughter 
had  been  rescued  and  escorted  back  to  safety  by 
this  knight  of  the  new  lands?  Was  it  not  nat- 
ural that  the  heart  of  the  elder  should  open  to 
him. 

So  when  the  Sheriff  stood  up  to  go,  there  was 
a  twinkle  in  Mr.  John  Thorn's  eye.  "  Anything 
else.  Sheriff?"  he  asked.  "Anything  else  you'd 
like  to  see  about?  " 

The  Sheriff  leaned  against  the  post  of  the  ver- 
anda and  turned  red.  He  seized  his  rifle  and 
swung  it  under  his  arm,  then  he  smiled  doubt- 
fully. 

"  Well,  seeing  as  how  if  I  catch  Hardeman, 
I'll  take  him  back  quick,  and  I  might  not  be 
around  here  in  the  next  twenty  years — it  seems 
to  me  I'd  just  like  to  say  good-bye  to  your  daugh- 
ter, Mr.  Thorn;  I  would." 

Mr.  Thorn  chuckled  to  himself  over  the  bash- 
ful deliberateness  of  the  speech. 

"And  seeing  that  you  might  have  to  fight  it 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  219 

out  with  the  outlaw,  and  that's  dangerous — and 
seeing  how  long  twenty  years  is,  and  the  debt 
of  gratitude  I  owe  you — you  can  see  her.  Sheriff. 
I'm  going  into  town  now.  Good-bye.  And  see 
here,  you  just  run  up  to  Seattle  some  day  and 
drop  in  on  me.    Old  friends,  you  know." 

Smiling  he  ushered  his  guest  into  the  cabin 
and  calling  for  Myra  to  come  down  and  see  a 
friend,  he  deliberately  took  his  hat  and  walked 
towards  the  post  office. 

"  I  like  that  Sheriff — he's  no  dude,''  he  mut- 
tered thoughtfully.  "  Hanged  if  I  don't  like 
him,"  and  his  ejes  twinkled  deeply. 

Myra  did  not  at  once  appear,  and  the  Sheriff 
sat  alone,  waiting,  noting  the  many  signs  of 
refinement  and  wealth  somehow  stamped  in- 
sidiously upon  the  place,  though  it  was  but  a 
cabin  a  little  larger  and  finer  than  its  neighbors 
in  Hilltown.  He  felt  himself  growing  very  re- 
mote. Plenty  of  money  here,  evidently.  As  he 
thought  how  much,  he  grew^  more  and  more  dis- 
mayed; being  certainly  and  genuinely  in  love, 
despite  his  independent  philosophy. 

"  A  measly  sheriff  with  six  hundred  a  year. 
I'm  plumb  locoed,"  he  reflected. 

Then  Myra  appeared,  and,  despite  the  useless- 
ness  of  it,  his  heart  leaped  to  meet  her. 

She  was  not  quite  the  girl  he  had  known  in 
their    woodland   experiences    together;    a    faint 


220  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

aroma  of  her  wealth,  of  the  environments  of  her 
home  in  the  city,  floated  about  her  and  removed 
her  further  from  him.  Yet  she  was  all  the  same 
— and  more;  and  despite  his  pride  he  found  him- 
self clinging  jealouslj^  to  the  links  between  them. 
She  might  have  been  dressed  in  a  cloud,  so  far 
as  he  knew,  for  as  he  took  her  hand  his  mind 
was  on  the  day  when  she  slept  on  the  hillside 
and  he  had  watched  her  bare  arm  in  its  ragged 
sleeve,  and  had  fallen  in  love  with  it. 

'^  I've  come  to  say  good-bye,  Miss  Thorn.  I 
must  go.  I've  got  to  go  along  after  my  business 
now  I'm  able." 

"Going  away.  Sheriff?  Where  to?  Isn't  this 
the  first  time  you've  come  to  see  me?  I  suppose  " 
— she  paused  slightly, — "  of  course  there's  some- 
body in  Wasco  can't  spare  you  any  longer."  She 
smiled,  but  her  chin  rose  coolly. 

"  Shucks !  "  he  laughed  uncertainly,  "  There 
ain't  anybody  in  Wasco,  or  anywhere  else  that 
I  know  of.  You  see — I  came  up  here  on  special 
business,  an'  I  must  be  off." 

She  sat  down  with  a  short  gasp  of  fear. 
"  Hardeman?  "  For  a  second  or  two  she  was 
his  frightened  mesa  girl  again.  "  Don't  go.  It's 
so  dangerous.     You  may  get  shot." 

"  That's  a  fact,  ma'am,  I  may.  But  I  ain't 
countin'  on  it,"  he  answered  dryly. 

"  I  hate  to  think  of  your  going,  Sheriff,"  she 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  221 

wlii«p*^red.  "  Give  it  up.  I  don't  want  to  turn 
you  from  your  duty,  but  I-tliat  is,  I  mean 
L  don't  .s-ant  to  see  you  killed  after  all  you  ve 
done  for  us."    She  was  very  much  in  earnest. 

The  Sheriff's  face  was  a  study.  Give  up 
Hardeman,  remembering  Jeff's  wife  down  in 
Wasco?  knowing,  too,  what  this  same  girl  whom 
he  loved  had  escaped?  But  since  her  unreason- 
ableness was  all  on  his  account,  he  was  not  going 

to  spoil  it.  '  . 

"Yes,  that  Hardeman  surely  is  a  bad  speci- 
men •  he  'most  scares  me,"  he  assented  in  his 
gentle  drawl.  "  But  then  I'm  a  dreadful  dan- 
gerou,«  man  myself.  I  know  a  lady  who  won't 
walk  with  me  'cept  she  brings  a  gun  along. 
Thafs  a  solemn  fact,"  and  the  Sheriff  smiled 

benignij'. 

"  Don't  be  horrid,"  she  said  flushing  up. 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  Had  to  give  her  my  own  pistol 
'fore  she'd  come  a  step.  She  said  I  was  enough 
like  Hardeman  to  be  his  twin  brother,"  he  went 
on,  mercilessly  enjoying  Myra's  color. 

"  You're  mean,"  she  said,  "  and  you're  merely 
evading    the    present    question."      Sis    banter 

ceased  at  once. 

"  I  was  flippant,"  he  acknowledged.  That  s 
not  my  real  feeling,  now  I'm  saying  good-bye  to 
you  There  are  a  few  things  I'd  like  to  say  bet- 
ter than  good-bve-but  I  guess  about  the  only 


222  TEE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

square  thing  is  this.  Thank  you  for  the  pleas- 
ure Fve  had  in  knowing  you,  and  in  serving  you 
a  little.  Don't  you  worry  about  my  risk.  'Taint 
big  enough  to  mention." 

He  stood  waiting,  his  eyes  regretful  but  full  of 
a  man's  stern  purpose.  She  threw  back  her 
head  bravely  and  met  his  look  with  a  smile. 

"  And  so  it's  good-bye,  Sheriff.  That's  too  bad, 
isn't  it?  Do  you  know  this  is  the  first  and  only 
time  you've  come  to  see  me?  Do  you  know  I'm 
going  to  think  of  you  as  Hardeman  all  the  rest 
of  my  life — I  know  you  so  little  as  yourself?  " 

"  My  dern  foolishness,"  he  admitted  sorrow- 
fully, "  I  guess  I'm  going  to  be  punished  good 
an'  plenty  for  it." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  she  said  judicially,  "  I 
rather  think  you  deserve  it.  I'd  like  to  have 
come  to  forget  those  things  and  think  of  you  as 
my  friend,  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco.  But  this  is 
good-bye — so  there's  no  chance  of  that." 

He  took  a  quick  step  forward,  and  the  steady, 
eager  question  of  his  eyes  forced  hers  to  waver. 
"  I  guess  you  don't  know  what  you're  sayin'  "  he 
said  softly,  but  he  was  so  tall  and  so  high  above 
her  that  she  neither  looked  up  nor  answered. 
"  I'm  the  Sheriff  o'  Wasco,  you  see.  Who's  that? 
Just  nobody — though  I  didn't  think  so  always. 
*  *  *  I'm  goin'  on  a  long  trail,  and  there 
ain't  any  outcroppings  of  gold  on  it  as  I  can  see." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  223 

His  voice  dropped  to  a  doubtful  whisper.  "  But 
I'd  like  to  come  back  some  day — God  knows. 
''  I'll  make  something  o'  myself  yet.  I'll  go  up 
north  to  the  Yukon  an'  dig  out  one  o'  their  gold 

mountains  by  the  roots  if — if " 

She  turned  away  abruptly,  and  catching  up  a 
book  from  the  table  began  to  flirt  the  leaves 
back  and  forth  gaily,  so  he  could  not  see  her 

eyes. 

"Gold?"  she  said  smiling  "—gold?  What 
has  that  to  do  with  our  being  acquainted  in  the 
future?"  Then  she  flung  down  the  book  and 
faced  him.  "  Oh,  by  the  way,  father  and  I  are 
on  the  gold  trail— did  you  know  it?  Wo're  go- 
ing out  to  see  his  mines  this  week." 

If  this  was  a  hint  of  her  father's  wealth  for 
his  benefit,  he  lost  it.  Misunderstanding,  he 
drew  back  sharply,  proudly— and  instantly  be- 
gan to  speak  about  the  mines.  He  was  nothing 
more  than  her  woodman  escort,  quick  and 
gentle,  but  masterful— more  masterful  than  ever 
in  his  embarrassment. 

"The  mines?  They're  no  right  place  for  a 
lady.  Guess  I  wouldn't  go  there— not  just  at 
present." 

"  Mercy,  why  not?"  she  said,  surprised  and  a 

little  obstinate. 

"  Those  miners  are  a  lot  of  bad  trash.  I'd 
really  like  it  if  you'd  keep  away  from  there." 


224  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

As  always,  without  exerting  himself  at  all,  he 
produced  in  her  the  impulse  to  obey  him. 

"  Do  you  know  I'd  really  like  it  if  you'd  re- 
member that  this  isn't  Wasco,  and  that  I'm  not 
under  your  jurisdiction,"  she  smiled  rebelliously. 

*^  I  remember.  I'm  under  yours,"  he  corrected. 
*'  — But,  honestly,  you  will  keep  away  from  those 
mines,  won't  you?  " 

Finally  she  dodged  the  question,  "  I'll  take 
my  orders  from  dad." 

"  Well,  that's  correct,"  he  drawled,  "  your 
dad's  all  right."  His  point  was  gained.  Swing- 
ing his  rifle  into  the  crook  of  his  elbow,  he  stood 
hesitating,  his  eyes  fixed  searchingly  upon  her, 
his  face  growing  determined. 

"  Were  you  bluffing  me  when  you  said  you'd 
like  to  be  better  acquainted?  "  he  asked  doubt- 
fully. '^  You  see  how  it  is,  I  ain't  ever  sat  in  a 
game  with  a  lady — an'  I  don't  exactly  read  the 
cyards." 

She  laughed  sweetly  but  teasingly,  and  beyond 
that  would  not  answer  him.  So  he  studied  her 
face  harder  than  ever,  and  perhaps  read  there 
the  sign  that  he  needed,  for  catching  up  her  hand 
suddenly  he  showered  a  storm  of  quick,  fiery 
kisses  upon  it. 

"  So  long !  "  he  whispered  ardently,  "  I'll  be 
back.  If  I  live,  I'll  be  back."  He  took  his  cap 
and  cocked  it  on  the  back  of  his  head  and  went 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  225 

slowly  out  of  the  door,  leaving  her  there  smiling. 
He  grinned  hopefully  as  he  plunged  along, 
musing  to  himself,  "  She  wasn't  bluffin'.  No— 
not  altogether.  She  likes  me,  I  guess.  I'll  get 
her— I'll  get  her  if  I  have  to  walk  to  the  Klondike 
an'  back." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE    SHERIFF    AND    TALABAM. 

A  PREY  to  his  own  thoughts  and  quite  oblivious 
to  his  surroundings',  the  Sheriff  had  gone  a  long 
way  from  Hi  11  town  when  he  suddenly  remem- 
bered something,  and  began  to  laugh  to  himself. 

"  By  George — there's  that  hundred  dollars ! 
I  hay'n't  any  particular  desire  to  take  it  back 
to  camp.    I  clean  forgot  about  it." 

He  mused  awhile,  then  hurriedly  retraced  his 
steps  to  a  store  that  he  had  noticed  as  he  passed. 
"What  you  got  for  house-furnishings  here?" 
he  asked  quizzically. 

"  Oh,  anything  from  a  sardine  can  to  a  grizzly 
hide,"  retorted  the  merchant. 

"  What  did  you  say  about  grizzlies?  Let's 
see  'em." 

"  I've  got  the  goldarnedest  hide  of  a  grizzly 
you  ever  saw,  stranger.  'Twould  make  a  carpet 
for  a  king's  parlor — it's  worth  a  clean  hundred." 

"  That's  my  size,"  said  the  Sheriff  instantly. 
"  Let's  see  the  mammoth." 

A  great  black-brown  shaggy  mass,  prepared 

226 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  227 

with  the  skill  of  the  expert  for  use  as  a  rug,  was 
unrolled.  One  glance  was  enough.  "  I'll  take 
it/'  said  the  Sheriff,  ^'  Here's  your  hundred. 
And  send  it  Mr.  John  Thorn,  with  the  compli- 
ments of  the  patrol  gang  at  the  camp,  in  honor 
of  the  safe  return  of  the  finest  young  lady  in  the 
Olympics  to  her  father.  And  say,  look-a-here — 
if  you  squeal  and  tell  w^ho  bought  it,  111  come 
around  and  see  you." 

The  merchant  grinned.  "  I'll  deliver  it  per- 
sonal. Sheriff,"  he  said.  "You  trust  me;  I've 
been  where  you  are  myself."  He  winked  know- 
ingly, but  the  Sheriff  was  already  gone. 

On  the  way  back  to  camp  the  man  from  Oregon 
sat  on  a  stump  and  chuckled. 

"  I'd  just  like  to  see  Mr.  John  Thorn  when  he 
gets  that  carpet. — And  she'll  maybe  think  o' 
me  now  an'  again  when  she  happens  to  see  that 
o^rizzlv,"  he  mused.  "  I  wonder  if  she  will.  And 
I  wonder  what  the  boys  will  do  when  John  Thorn 
goes  and  thanks  'em  for  their  beautiful  present, 
ha !  ha  I  ha !  " 

He  reached  the  camp  and  the  patrolmen  sur- 
rounded him.  "  Hand  over  the  dough.  Sheriff. 
Where's  that  hundred  you  got  outer  Butts?" 
they  cried  with  various  degrees  of  emotion. 

"  It's  gone,  boys,"  explained  the  reprobate  of 
a  Sheriff.  "  I  spent  it  all.  You  wait  and  you'll 
know   how.     You   see   I'm   going   soon   and   I 


228  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

thought  a  present  wouldn't  jar  jou  too  much- 
just  to  remember  me  by.'' 

Thev  were  nonplussed,  but  they  took  it  kindly, 
seeing  that  the  Sheriff  seemed  so  happy  about  it. 
Of  course  it  was  their  money  that  had  bought 
the  present  which  was  to  be  theirs — but  that  was 
all  right.  The  joke  was  on  them;  and  they 
celebrated  the  departure  of  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco 
with  vigor  and  the  best  of  wishes.  Butts  told 
him  where  to  look  for  Chief  Talabam,  also  just 
to  say  that  he  was  Butts'  friend;  and  then  the 
Sheriff  shook  hands  all  around  and  w^ent  out 
into  the  early  morning  on  his  dangerous  mis- 
sion. 

The  camp  was  electrified  later  in  the  forenoon 
to  receive  a  visit  from  Mr.  John  Thorn. 

"  Say,  boys,"  he  said  pantingly  from  atop  his 
horse,  "  I  just  rode  around  to  thank  you  for  that 
elegant  grizzly  skin  you  sent  me  to  commemo- 
rate my  daughter's  safe  return.  Say,  it's  the 
finest  thing  this  side  of  the  Rockies." 

"What     the  is     he     talking     about?" 

queried  some  of  the  men  of  Jenks.  "  We  ain't 
sent  no  present." 

"  Hush  you  I  That's  the  present  the  Sheriff  o' 
Wasco  was  a  talking  about.  He  ain't  sent  any- 
thing to  us,  you  fool;  he's  sent  it  to  Mr.  Thorn 
— that's  same  as  to  the  girl,  don't  you  see;  and 
we,  ha !  ha !  ha !  we's  paid  for  it." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  229 

Like  a  flash  the  men  understood.  But  they 
were  game  to  the  core. 

"  Yes/'  remarked  the  captain  in  answer  to  Mr. 
Thorn,  '^  we  just  thought  as  how  that  grizzly 
woukl  be  a  suitable  present  for  the  occasion." 

"  It  was  more  than  suitable.  It  was  the  work 
of  noble  hearts,  boys.  It  was  a  master-stroke. 
But  good-bye  all,  I  must  get  along.'' 

"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Thorn,"  echoed  the  patrol, 
"  i?ood-bve.  Glad  tou  like  it.  Just  a  little 
remembrance." 

They  watched  him  disappear  in  the  distance; 
then  Butts  kicked  a  stone  into  the  gully  below, 
and  Jenks  threw  a  rock  into  the  dinner  stew  on 
the  kitchen  fire. 

"What  do  you  think  o'  that?"  roared  he. 
"  He  sends  a  rug  to  Thorn  and  we  pay  for 
it." 

"  An'  we  get  the  credit  for  being  kind-hearted 
gents,  and  have  to  labor  under  false  pretences," 
cried  another. 

"  An'  the  Sheriff  o'  Wasco  gets  us  a  thinking 
we're  goin'  to  be  the  recipients  of  that  there 
bootiful  partin'  present,  bought  outen  our 
money." 

"  Didn't  feel  like  spending  it  on  himself.  On 
his  darlin'  self,"  exclaimed  Jenks  disgustedly. 

"  '  An  the  present  was  the  work  o'  noble  hearts. 
He's   a   noble   heart — he    is,"    echoed   another. 


230  TEE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

"  We're  a  lot  o'  mountain  slieep — that's  what,^' 
exclaimed  Butts  finally.  "  But  let's  have  a  few 
drinks  to  the  young  colt  anj^way." 

Meanwhile  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  had  left  the 
shore  road  some  half  a  dozen  miles  below,  and 
was  ascending  into  the  uplands.  All  day  and 
night  he  travelled  along  the  rugged  base  of  the 
mountain  chain,  and  when  the  sun  arose  he  was 
still  making  quick  progress  towards  the  north- 
west corner  of  the  state. 

He  stopped  for  a  rest  and  for  breakfast  at  the 
base  of  a  great  rock  overlooking  the  landscape 
for  miles  around. 

He  chose  his  camp  carefully  in  a  spot  where 
he  could  see  everything  without  being  easily  seen 
himself,  and  went  about  his  preparations  for 
breakfast  with  the  quickness  and  certainty  of  a 
man  inured  to  wilderness  life.  It  was  no  time 
or  place  for  the  lighting  of  fires,  so  he  munched 
his  dried  biscuit  and  drank  his  cold  coffee  sup- 
plied by  the  guardsmen,  his  rifle  close  by  his 
side  and  his  eyes  carefully  scanning  the  wood- 
lands and  valleys,  the  far-off  peaks  and  their 
nearby  breastworks  rising  ruggedly  on  all  sides 
of  him. 

"  Guess  there  isn't  much  danger.  He's  prob- 
ably down  at  the  mines.  An'  they're  leagues 
away  from  here.  Still  he  might  just  be  prowling 
around  hunting  for  bear,  or  out  on  a  strike,  in 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  231 

which  event  'twould  be  cussed  foolish  for  me  to 
give  him  another  shot."  The  Sheriff's  lower  face 
settled  into  a  disgusted  twist  as  he  remembered 
his  last  lapse  of  caution. 

''  If  I  follow  this  trail  till  night  I'll  find  Chief 
Talabam  and  his  Yakimas.  The  chief's  a  bird 
of  a  red  skin,  they  say.  And  that  reminds  me 
— I  wonder  whatever  became  of  that  little  Indian 
boy  who  used  to  chase  father's  chickens  around 
the  yard  with  me,  and  who  fell  into  the  Columbia 
river  that  day." 

He  ceased  eating  for  a  few  moments  to  smile 
reminiscently  over  the  memory.  ^'  That,"  he 
muttered,  "  that  must  'a  been  twenty-two  years 
ago  when  I  was  a  little  kid.  The  current  took 
him  down  stream  like  a  race  horse — and  I  was 
streaking  it  along  the  bank  giving  him  pointers 
how  to  keep  from  drowning,  when  he  sank,  and 
I — by  thunder  how  did  I  do  it  anyway?  And 
when  he  went  away  with  his  squaw  mother  she 
blessed  me  with  her  Injun's  blessing  and  the 
little  cuss  said  some  day  he  would  be  Chief  of 
the  Thunder  Mountains,  and  then  he  would  find 
his  pale-face  brother^— Guess  he'd  scalp  me  by 
this  time,  soon  as  not,"  said  the  Sheriff  with  a 
philosophic  grin. 

He  pushed  back  his  shirt-sleeve  and  examined 
his  wrist.  "  Got  that  tear  in  the  rapids  to  re- 
member him   by.     He  was   sorter   cut  up  an' 


232  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

smashed  in  his  shoulder  too.  We  were  a  couple 
of  gay  kids,  if  I  recollect." 

Breakfast  over,  the  Sheriff  bestowed  his  long 
body  re&tfully,  his  visored  cap  wedged  between 
the  back  of  his  head  and  the  rock,  his  chest  up- 
turned to  the  blue  heavens,  and  his  knees  crossed 
lazily  and  with  apparent  abandon,  and  his  rifle 
reposing  across  his  stomach  beneath  his  folded 
arms.  There  he  fell  to  ruminating  on  the  extra- 
ordinary shrinkage  which  was  apt  to  take  place 
in  a  man's  valuation  of  himself  when  perched  on 
some  wild  mountain  side  like  this,  alone  with  a 
few  of  nature's  big  things,  overlooking  the  huge- 
ness of  the  earth  that  bore  him. 

All  below  him  stretched  miles  upon  miles  of 
wooded  hills,  betraying  no  sign  of  the  presence 
of  man.  Above  him  soared  the  majestic  moun- 
tains surrounded  by  their  native  stillness  and 
repose,  with  the  vast  spaces  of  earth  and  sky 
dividing  them  eternally. 

How  far  away  from  this  place  seemed  the  busy 
world  of  men,  how  vain  and  unreal !  And  his 
own  life  with  its  small  activities,  its  strenuous 
haste,  how  unimportant  it  was.  Here  Life  itself, 
the  ultimate  being,  the  everlasting  spirit  behind 
the  existence  of  material  things,  spoke  to  him 
and  impressed  him  with  a  salutary  vividness  he 
had  seldom  before  known.  The  silent  greatness, 
the  vastness,  of  space  were  here,  and  here  was 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  233 

also  his  lone,  throbbing,  human  heart,  all  alike 
parts  of  the  universal  Life.  How  small  and 
insignificant  in  the  great  scheme  of  things  was 
a  man  I  So  small  and  insignificant  that  to  real- 
ize it  was  to  feel  oppressed  at  the  touch  of  an 
appalling  loneliness  and  grandeur. 

Yet,   feeble  and   unimportant  in   comparison 
with  the  whole  before  him  though  he  might  be, 
there  he  was,  breathing,  feeling,  vigorous  in  his 
day    and    generation,    the    conqueror    of    those 
mountain  steeps,  those  huge  impassive  barriers 
of  nature.     Man   might  be   little,   but  he   was 
chief,  the  highest  of  Life's  manifestations.     It 
was  his  strength,  his  power,  his  ability  to  com- 
mand the  muscles  of  his  body,  which  had  brought 
him  to  this  place  where  he  stood,  and  would  carry 
him  when  he  chose  across  the  most  insurmount- 
able of  the  peaks.     His  brain  was  the  matchless 
engine  that  should  subdue  all  the  other  forces  of 
nature,  and  make  him  their  king.    This  was  life 
physical,  and  life  supreme,  life  in  its  grandest 
sphere,  its  most  heroic  mold,  life  that  gave  domin- 
ance and  power  over  all  other  things.    It  was  in- 
herent in  man,  and  marked  him  for  its  highest 
and  most  god-like  manifestation. 

Presently  the  Sheriff's  thoughts  went  further. 

There  were  other  things  besides  the  life  physi- 
cal, the  sovereign  dominance  over  created  things, 
which  made  man  what  he  w^as. 


234  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

He  was  looking  now  on  another  picture — on 
his  life  as  an  engineer  down  in  Wasco,  his  pros- 
pects there,  which  had  been  rather  good;  on  the 
call  to  be  Sheriff — deep  in  his  heart  he  was 
sternly  proud  of  that;  then  on  the  wild  scenes 
that  had  followed,  poor  Jeff^s  terrible,  broken- 
hearted collapse,  the  finding  of  Hardeman's 
work  of  desolation.  As  always  when  he  had 
these  things  in  mind,  a  curious,  brooding  quiet 
stole  over  the  Sheriff's  face,  his  firm  lower  jaw 
set  fiercely,  and  the  nature  of  his  thoughts 
showed  in  the  stern  gleam  of  his  eyes.  He  would 
discharge  his  great  responsibility.  He  would 
justify  the  confidence  of  those  who  had  deemed 
him  worthy  for  such  a  work  of  vengeance. — 
And  after  that? 

After  that  he  would  begin  again  and  build  his 
future  from  the  bottom  up.  His  fortunes  were 
just  now  at  the  vanishing  point, — but  what 
of  it?  He  had  no  regrets.  None — except  for 
one  thought,  one  dear  warm  thought  deep  down 
in  his  heart.  A  man  must  sacrifice  himself  to  his 
duty  sometimes;  else  he  was  no  man. 

Duty !  What  a  queer,  apparently  insignificant 
w^ord  that  was.  Yet  how  it  rang  through  a 
man's  brain.  Duty!  As  his  mind  heard  it  it 
seemed  like  the  call  of  the  ages  carried  across 
space  to  him,  raising  him  immeasurably  above 
that  other  man  whom  he  had  deemed  supreme — 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  235 

the  physical.  With  it  were  blended  in  his  fancy 
the  despairing  voices  of  a  woman  and  a  child — 
Jeff's  wife  and  baby.  What  were  his  personal 
future,  his  life,  his  insignificant  fortunes  as  com- 
pared with  that  cry?  He  was  answering  it.  He, 
man,  alone  of  all  nature's  works  had  the  power 
to  hear  and  answer  that  cry.  Yes,  the  call  of 
duty — that  made  life.  It  was  greater  than  physi- 
cal life.  He  had  been  wrong  when  he  said  that 
life  physical  was  supreme,  for  now  he  knew  that 
life  lived  for  duty  was  greater,  higher,  and  far 
more  difficult.    It  was  most  worthy  of  a  man. 

And  then  presently  across  the  kindling  ex- 
altation of  his  face  there  crept  a  deep  tender 
glow,  which  passed  to  his  strong  hands  and  to 
his  whole  live,  youthful  body,  and  sent  his  heart 
bounding  in  great  throbbing  leaps.  He  w^as 
thinkinoj  of  Mvra  as  he  had  left  her  vesterday, 
thinking  with  the  yearning  desire  for  possession 
— of  her  soft,  graceful  presence,  her  smiles  and 
sweet  reservations  that  w^ere  promises,  her  clear 
round  voice,  and  of  the  love  that  he  knew^  w^as 
consuming  him.  He  could  not  tell  her  of  his 
passion,  no,  not  now,  not  until  his  position  w^as 
secure.  He  was  no  lowly  adventurer  to  hunt  a 
rich  man's  daughter,  but  a  man  genuinely  in 
love,  carried  away  by  the  very  image  of  the  wo- 
man he  adored.  He  would  not  speak  yet,  he 
could  not,  lest  suspicion,  the  vaguest  suspicion 


236  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

be  cast  on  his  sincerity.  He  was  proud  and  a 
son  of  the  open  West,  and  he  felt  thaj,  given 
half  a  chance,  he  would  win  out  for  love.  He 
loould,  if  he  worked  the  flesh  off  his  hands  in 
doing  so. 

Yes,  he  was  living,  indeed.  This  was  what  it 
meant  to  be  a  man;  to  hear  the  voice  of  duty 
ringing  its  clarion  notes  before  him,  and  in  his 
every  heartstring  to  feel  the  agonized  cry  of  a 
man's  great  love;  to  do  battle  with  the  best  that 
was  in  him  for  both.  "  Duty  and  love !  "  said 
the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  with  muttered  passion. 
"  Give  me  the  physical  power,  the  fortune,  to  win 
out  for  duty.  Then,  by  heavens,  I'll  tackle  the 
love;  and  I  feel  that  I'll  win — I  do." 

He  gazed  awhile  into  the  distant  shining 
Pacific  and  across  the  straits  to  the  land  of  the 
British,  while  the  mountain  breeze  whipped  the 
hair  on  his  brow,  and  the  sun  beat  hot  on  his 
brown,  keen  visage. 

"  Yes,  I  am  living  now,  no  mistake,'^  he  said 
softly  to  himself  with  a  smile.  "  Now  that  I 
know  her.    I  never  lived  before — never." 

A  wary  mountain  sparrow,  deceived  perhaps 
by  his  great  stillness,  alighted  near  him  and 
proceeded  to  breakfast  off  the  crumbs  scattered 
about.  The  sparrow  knew  nothing  of  men,  prob- 
ably had  never  seen  one  before,  but  the  man 
knew  all  about  mountain  sparrows,  and  knew 


TEE  SEERIFF  OF  WASCO.  237 

that  so  long  as  this  one  remained  with  him  there 
could  be  no  prowlers  of  any  description  in  the 
vicinity.  He  was  Sheriff  still,  as  well  as  lover 
and  philosopher,  and  he  forgot  not  that  once 
lately  his  enemy,  w^hom  he  had  supposed  miles 
away,  had  shot  him  most  unexpectedly. 

"  Little  bird's  hungry — but  it's  dollars  to 
doughnuts  he  isn't  half  as  hungry  as  I  am.  Any- 
way he's  a  good  watch-dog." 

The  Sheriff  closed  one  eye  as  an  experiment, 
a  few^  minutes  later  he  closed  the  other  with- 
out knowing  it,  and  dozed  in  absolute  content- 
ment w^ith  the  tiny  mountain  sparrow  on 
guard. 

Half  an  hour  or  so  later,  however,  he  opened 
his  eyes  suddenly  to  find  that  the  little  wild 
visitor  was  gone.  Crumbs  were  still  plentiful, 
so  the  Sheriff's  sleepy  expression  vanished  at 
once.  Glancing  inquiringly  about,  he  noted  a 
hawk,  flying  toward  the  lower  valley,  swerve 
sharply  upward  as  it  passed  a  little  gorge  just 
below  him. 

"  Living  something  or  other  just  down  there, 
a  heap  too  close  for  comfort,  and  I  guess  I'll 
start  in  an'  classify  him." 

Silently  hitching  his  rifle  to  its  accustomed 
place,  he  melted  away  from  the  boulder.  Like 
a  shadow  on  the  grass  he  cros'sed  the  open  spaces 
toward  the  gorge  and  even  in  that  clear  moun- 


238  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

tain  air  his  footsteps  left  no  sound,  they  were 
so  light,  so  certain  and  swift. 

Once  at  the  crest  of  the  gorge  he  perceived 
without  difficulty  the  thing  that  had  disturbed 
the  wild  denizens.  A  company  of  Indians  were 
setting  their  tepees  beside  the  small  mountain 
stream  in  the  valley. 

'^  The  Yakimas,  by  George,"  he  thought  at 
once,  ''  that's  lucky.  I  wonder  which  of  them  is 
Chief  Talabam." 

He  watched  them  for  a  few  moments  longer  to 
satisfy  himself.  He  knew  the  tribe,  the  aristo- 
crats of  the  far  western  red  men,  fearless,  and 
independent,  not  yet  living  in  the  confinement 
of  government  reservations.  With  them  the  rifle 
had  not  fully  replaced  the  bow  and  arrow,  and 
the  chase  after  the  big  game  of  the  Olympics  was 
still  their  chief  means  of  livelihood. 

The  sheriff  slung  his  rifle  across  his  shoulder, 
and  abandoning  every  appearance  of  conceal- 
ment, made  for  the  valley. 

The  red  men  perceived  him  instantly.  Gravely 
and  with  feigned  indifference  to  the  coming  of 
the  solitary  white  hunter  they  watched  his  de- 
scent. It  was  easy  now  to  distinguish  the  leader. 
The  tallest  of  his  band,  he  stood  motionless,  his 
erect,  half-naked  figure  shining  red  brown  in  the 
sun,  his  plumed  head  tilted  slightly  backward, 
and  his  broad  but  clean  cut  face  turned  half  in- 


TEE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  239 

quisitivelj  towards  the  stranger.  His  hands 
grasped  a  long  bow,  which  was  braced  endwise 
against  a  tree  trunk,  and  his  whole  bearing  ex- 
pressed the  authority  and  half-tolerant  insolence 
that  befitted  the  great  chief  of  the  ariGtocratic 
Yakimas. 

The  Sheriff  knew  at  a  glance  that  he  was  en- 
tering into  the  midst  of  a  tribal  vanguard,  and 
that  these  men  were  but  the  ground  choosers 
for  an  encampment.  The  braves  made  not  a 
sound  or  a  movement  as  he  stood  before  their 
chief,  and,  unslinging  his  rifle,  threw  it  on  the 
ground  with  an  indifference  that  matched  the 
red  man's.  The  eyes  of  the  Wasco  man  returned 
the  chief  look  for  look;  then  he  offered  the  dig- 
nitary some  tobacco,  and  spoke  in  the  slow 
pleasant  language  of  the  Yakimas. 

"  The  white  friend  looks  for  the  big  Chief, 
Talabam.— The  Chief  Butts  of  the  White  Walk- 
ers *  sends  the  Yakimas  the  spirit  of  a  great 
hunt.'' 

The  bronze  figure  listened  with  solemn  atten- 
tion to  his  ow^n  language  from  the  lips  of  the 
white  man;  then  it  pleased  him  graciously  to 
unbend  and  accept  the  tobacco,  and  the  entire 
company  seated  themselves  in  a  semi-circle  and 
the  high  business  of  Indian  speech-making  be- 
gan. 

*  The  Indians  refen-ed  to  the  patrol  as  the  "  White  Walk« 
ers," 


240  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

"  The  Chief  Talabam  is  glad  the  Chief  of  the 
White  Walkers  remembers.  The  white  brother 
comes  when  the  heart  of  Chief  Talabam  is  red 
with  blood  and  anger,  for  the  braves  from  the 
East  whisper  to  him  that  the  great  white  maiden 
of  the  settlements  was  stolen.  The  Yakimas 
know  the  white  maiden,  and  the  braves  and  the 
squaws  and  the  papooses  cry  that  she  must  come 
back.  If  Chief  Butts  sends  to  ask  help  of  Tala- 
bam, his  braves  will  go  even  into  the  Land  of 
Silence.  The  land  beyond  will  hear  the  war-cry 
of  his  tribe;  for  the  white  maiden  must  be  saved.'^ 

Indian  fashion,  he  swung  his  right  arm  in  a 
slow  semi-circle  towards  San  Juan  straits,  the 
outlying  Pacific,  and  the  great  Olympics  be- 
hind them 

Knowing  now  that  it  was  Talabam  himself,  a 
native  famed  throughout  these  vastnesses,  who 
spoke,  the  Sheriff  arose,  and  with  the  dignity  of 
the  white  man  prepared  to  soothe  the  fighting 
spirit  of  his  red  brother. 

"  Talabam,  the  great  and  the  proud,"  he  began, 
his  natural,  pleasant,  self-possessed  drawl  lend- 
ing the  high-sounding  phrases  melody. — ''  Tala- 
bam, whose  deeds  are  talked  of  by  white  men 
throughout  the  settlements  of  the  Thunder 
Mountains,  is  the  friend  of  the  stranger.  The 
Chief  needs  not  to  lead  his  bands  into  the  Silent 
Land;  for  the  white  maiden  is  safe.    She  was  lib- 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  241 

erated  and  now  walks  in  the  settlement.  But  the 
Chief  Butts  asks  that  Talabam  himself  give  aid 
to  the  stranger;  for  the  bad  man  Hardeman,  he 
w^ho  stole  the  maiden,  hides  in  the  mines,  or  the 
forests,  and  the  Chief  Talabam  alone  knows  the 
trails.  The  w^hite  stranger  has  vowed  to  hunt 
the  bad  man  from  land  to  land,  and  w^hen  he 
finds  him  the  fight  shall  be  his,  for  he  has  come 
many  days  from  the  rising  sun  and  the  banks  of 
the  great  river  where  the  salmon  fish  run  thick 
in  the  w^ater.  The  white  stranger  will  find  the 
bad  man,  and  Talabam  can  help,  but  the  fight 
shall  belong  to  the  man  who  comes  from  the  land 
of  Wasco." 

As  lie  ceased,  the  Sheriff's  right  arm  made  the 
proper  declamatory  sweep.  Talabam's  eyes,  fol- 
lowing it,  lighted  with  a  satisfied  flash  as  they  be- 
held the  long  white  scar  running  almost  round 
the  wrist,  showing  vividly  in  the  sunlight  as  the 
sleeve  of  the  coat  fell  back. 

"  The  great  white  traveler  must  rest,"  he 
said,  rising  again  with  dignity,  "  for  Talabam 
has  a  story  to  tell  to  his  braves.  It  is  a  story  of 
the  land  of  Oregon. 

The  Sheriff  planted  himself  once  more  on  the 
ground  in  forced  patience,  and  the  solemnity  of 
the  Chiefs  features  seemed  to  break  in  a  brief 
smile  as  he  viewed  the  resigned  face  of  the 
man  who  had  come  from  the  land  of  Wasco. 


2^2  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

"  As  the  light  spreads  over  the  land  to  the  call 
of  the  sun,  so  spreads  the  fame  of  a  great  man. 
So  come  the  echoes  of  the  deeds  of  the  white 
brother  from  Wasco  who  has  traveled  to  the  land 
of  our  tribe. 

^'  The  white  brother  tells  us  the  maiden  has 
returned,  but  he  tells  us  not  why  or  how.  Tala- 
bam  knows  as  he  knows  his  right  hand  from  his 
left  that  the  bad  man  did  not  bring  back  the 
maiden.  Talabam's  heart  tells  him  that  the 
stranger  from  Wasco  saved  the  little  white  maid- 
en, and  like  the  great  warrior,  he  is  silent." 

The  Sheriff  started  uneasily  and  waved  a  si- 
lencing hand  at  the  Indian ;  but  Talabam  ignored 
him  and  continued : 

^^  Braves  of  the  Yakimas — ^your  chief  knows 
the  white  brother.  Once  when  the  chief  was  a 
youth  and  walked  not  far  from  his  squaw  mother, 
he  made  the  bow  and  arrow  and  threw  the  stone, 
and  swam  the  great  river  with  a  white  boy  in 
the  land  of  Oregon. 

"  One  day  Talabam  fell  into  the  great  Thunder 
Rapids,  and  sank  and  sank  again.  His  eyes  grew 
dim,  and  his  breath  came  not  for  the  waters.  As 
he  closed  his  eyes  for  the  last  sleep  a  white 
shadow  sped  by  the  banks ;  a  voice  came  to  him 
like  the  voice  of  the  Spirit  of  Life,  and  Talabam 
heard  a  splash.  When  he  woke  to  the  land  again, 
the  white  boy,  wet  and  breathing  blood  from  his 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  243 

nose  and  mouth,  was  over  him.  The  white  boy's 
arm  wa^  torn,  and  hanging  as  a  broken  branch  to 
the  trunk.  The  sharp  rocks  of  the  rapids  had  cut 
in  a  circle  above  the  hand. 

'^  The  white  bov  became  a  great  man-hunter. 
They  call  him  Sheriff  of  Wasco;  and  the  little 
Indian  boy  whose  name  was  Bam  became  the 
Chief  Talabam. 

"  Warriors  of  the  Yakimas,  Talabam  welcomes 
the  white  traveler,  the  little  white  devil  boy,  to 
his  heart,  and  to  the  hearts  of  his  tribe.  He  will 
go  with  him  on  the  trail;  for  Talabam  forgets 
not  the  Thunder  rapids  and  the  love  of  the  two 
little  braves  in  the  land  of  Wasco.'' 

The  Sheriff  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant. 

"  Talabam — by  Jove.  I  never  guessed,"  he 
cried.  He  brought  his  hand  down  on  the  chief's 
shoulders  and  shook  him  vigorously,  and  turning 
him  half  round  fairly  shouted,  "  Darn  you,  old 
Bammy — darn  you." 

The  chief  side-stepped,  and  proudly  addressed 
the  encircling  braves : 

"  He  is  the  same  as  when  ten  summers  only 
covered  his  head.  He  sings,  as  he  sang  then: 
*^  Darn  you,  Bammy, — darn  you  !  " 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

MAN  TO  MAN. 

Talabam^s  broad  face  was  flecked  with  mois- 
ture and  his  breath  came  hard  and  fast,  for  the 
ascent  of  the  heights  had  been  a  long  day's  jour- 
ney, broken  now  and  again  by  a  rest  of  a  few 
moments  onlv.  The  sun  shone  mercilessly.  The 
glare  from  the  granite  of  the  mountains  flared 
against  back  and  neck  in  a  scorching  blast,  burn- 
ing and  cutting,  blistering  and  torturing. 

The  wind  from  the  Pacific,  the  Chinook,  blew 
soft  and  warm,  spreading  the  fog  bank  over  the 
lands  below ;  but  above  on  the  heights,  the  peaks 
were  bare  and  sun-baked.  The  Indian  looked 
down  to  the  valley  hidden  by  the  fog,  and  his 
^yes  closed  in  narrow  slits.  He  turned  to  his 
<?ompanion,  who,  crawling  around  the  face  of  a 
boulder,  had  thrown  himself  wearily  into  the 
shade. 

"  Wasco,''  he  exclaimed  in  the  white  man's 
tongue.  "  The  camp  of  the  gold  workers  is  not 
seen — the  fog  is  there.     But  the  new  Boss  is 

244 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  245 

the  bad  man  from  Oregon.  Chidwan  saw  his 
face  and  he  knows  him.    Chidwan  lies  not." 

"  Good  for  Chidwan/'  murmured  the  Sheriff, 
as  he  chewed  a  piece  of  a  twig.  "  Chidwan  is 
a  bird.  He  flies  with  his  feet.  It  would  take 
me  three  days  to  do  what  he  has  done,  to  go  into 
that  camp  and  return.'' 

"  The  Indian  brave  is  the  son  of  Talabam,"" 
exclaimed  the  chief  proudly. 

"  He's  the  son  of  a  gentleman,"  said  the  Sher- 
iff quietly.  "  How  many  men  did  Hardeman 
kill  that  day,  Chief?  " 

^^  Chidwan  says  four,  and  Chidwan  speaks  as 
the  son  of  a  chief." 

^'  Chidwan's  got  fire-water  inside  of  him, 
Bammy.    He's  dreaming  the  dreams  of  whiskey." 

The  Indian  shook  his  head  firmly. 

"  Chidwan  speaks  not  from  booze." 

The  Sheriff  laughed :  ^'  My,  Bammy  I  you're  on 
to  English  all  right.  You've  improved  im- 
mensely." 

'^  Me  had  seven  white  squaws  in  ten  years," 
volunteered  Talabam.  "  They  come  from  Seattle 
and  Victoria,  and  the  chief  studies  the  English." 

"  Bammv,  vou're  a  storv-teller." 

The  chief  winced.  "  Talabam  lies  not  Wasco. 
Talabam  like  fifty-seven  white  squaws,  but  his 
Indian  squaw  not  like.  She  great  brave  squaws 
She  chase  'em  all  back  with  tomahawk." 


246  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

"  I'm  darned  sorry,  Bammj,  old  boy.  It's  sad," 
the  Sherijff  glanced  at  the  chiefs  sphinx-like 
face,  and  bit  his  lip.  Then  he  gazed  silently 
down  into  the  fog  bank  two  thousand  feet  be- 
neath, blotting  out  the  trail,  and  amusement  was 
swallowed  up  in  the  man's  fiery  impatience  at 
the  inert,  insuperable  obstacle. 

"  To-night  I'm  going  down,  Bam,  to  get  him 
— fog  or  no  fog,"  he  said  with  a  low  snarl  in 
his  voice,  his  eyes  blazing  with  the  fierce  hun- 
ger of  the  chase.  I'll  get  him  alive  and  take 
him  back  if  I  can.  There'll  be  a  fight  like  as 
not." 

Talabam  nodded,  "  Me  go  too.  The  fight  is  a 
white  man's  fight;  but  Talabam  feels  the  air  of 
the  Chinook,  and  it  carries  the  hot  bjood  to  the 
head." 

"  Baramy,  if  you  butt  in  on  this  here  proposi- 
tion, I'll  put  a  bullet  in  you.  Hardeman's 
mine/' 

The  Indian  regarded  his  friend  with  a  deep 
stead}^  gaze.  There  was  affection  in  it,  and  tre- 
pidation. Then  he  spoke  slowly.  ^'  He  killed 
four  men.  If  he  kill  the  Sheriff,  the  little  devil- 
boy  of  the  Thunder  rapids — then  Hardeman. 
mine/' 

"  You're  the  same  old  red-skin — darn  you, 
Bammy,  darn  you ! "  said  the  Sheriff,  turning 
on  the  chief  with  a  laugh.     But  his  face  had 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  247 

clouded  for  an  instant  before ;  Talabam's  "  if  '^ 
was  a  grim  possibility. 

A  silence  fell  upon  the  two,  a  silence  that  was 
pregnant  with  understanding.    The  red  man  and 
the  white  were  thinking  of  the  approaching  meet- 
ing, and  both  knew  well  the  deep  and  dire  pos- 
sibilities ahead  of  them.    The  Sheriff,  young  and 
courageous,  a  man  who  knew  not  the  meaning 
of  fear,  was  by  no  means  oblivious  to  the  side  of 
the  picture  that  might  be  presented.     He  knew 
that  his  own  strength  and  quickness  were  to  be 
relied  on,  and  he  had  consummate  faith  in  his 
Colt;  but  he  was  a  man  who  had  learned  in  life's 
battle  never  to  under-rate  the  power  of  an  advers- 
ary, and  he  knew  that  Hardeman  was  a  man  of 
iron  muscle  and  great  agility.    He  likewise  knew 
that  the  chances  of  battle  are  turned  by  trivial 
blunders,     by     apparently     unimportant     mis- 
chances.    Would  the  capture  of  Hardeman  be 
effected  by  strategy,  or  by  sudden  meeting  of 
force  with  force,  or  by  some  unexpected  favor- 
ing chance?     The  Sheriff  would  plan  out  his 
campaign,  he  would  endeavor  to  execute  it  to 
a  nicety — but  the  possibility  of  a  flaw  was  al- 
ways there.     The  difference  of  a  second  in  the 
handling  of  his  weapon,  the  merest  twitch  of  a 
muscle  at  the  wrong  time,  the  slightest  indeci- 
sion, if  only  for  a  single  moment,  would  be  met 
undoubtedly  by  Hardeman  to  the  Sheriff's  un- 


248  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

doing.  To  face  a  coming  fight,  knowing  all  this, 
demands  a  well-nourished  brain  and  steady 
nerves  leashed  with  the  power  of  will  and  cour- 
age. 

The  Sheriff  only  closed  his  jaw  more  grimly 
and  the  color  of  his  dark  tanned  face  assumed 
a  ruddier  hue  as  he  thought  of  the  approaching 
moment  that  would  tvj  him  as  he  had  never  been 
tried  before.  His  eyes  shone  with  keen  and 
steady  light  as  they  met  Talabam's,  and  the 
Indian  understood.  He  saw  the  red  hue  under 
the  tanned  skin,  and  knew  that  the  devil  boy  of 
Wasco,  his  friend  of  old  clays,  was  blessed  with 
a  heart  that  pumped  strong  and  full  at  the 
thought  of  conflict.  There  was  no  pallor  of 
mental  strain  or  physical  weakness;  there  was 
cool,  nonchalant,  expectant,  hopeful  courage 
only. 

His  eyes  kindling  with  the  fire  of  the  warrior, 
Chief  Talabam  broke  the  silence. 

"  Wasco,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  Sheriff's 
weapon,  "  if  the  bad  man  escapes  the  blue  iron, 

it  will  be  body  against  body and  Wasco  must 

fight  as  he  and  Talabam  fought  when  they  were 
little  braves  and  they  were  strong  to  learn. 
Fight,  devil  boy,  as  the  grizzly  fights  the  bull- 
moose.'' 

The  Sheriff  nodded  comprehendingly.  Then 
quietly  he  pulled  from  the  pocket  of  his  coat  a 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  249 

small,  dark-red,  pebbly  stone.  Talabam  leaned 
toward  him  with  sudden  and  deep  interest. 
"  From  the  Silent  Land,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  nodded  the  Sheriff,  "^  it's  a  rough  ruby, 
Bam;  but  it's  all  right.  I  want  you  to  hold  it, 
and  if  Wasco  dies  give  it  to  the  white  maiden  and 
tell  her  that  the  Sheriff  found  it  when  he  was 
climbing  the  mesa  in  the  Land  of  Silence.  And 
say,  Bam,  old  boy,  say  to  her  that  she  might  have 
it  cut  and  put  in  gold ;  and  ask  her  if  she  would 
wear  it  once  in  a  while,  pinned  to  the  neck  of  her 
dress— just  once  in  a  long  time — to  remember 
the  Land  of  Silence  and  the  man  who  brought 
her  home." 

Talabam  took  the  gem  in  silence,  and  stowed 
it  safely  away  in  his  clothing;  and  the  two 
watched  the  distant  peaks,  rising  island -like 
above  the  fog  bank,  in  thorough  understanding. 

But  in  his  heart  the  redskinned  Talabam  did 
not  believe  it  w  ould  be  his  to  deliver  the  mes- 
sage. 

"  When  W^asco  finishes  the  hunt  for  the  bad 
man,  he  begins  the  hunt  for  the  maiden.  Huh  I  " 
There  was  a  sympathetic  grin  on  his  face,  and 
the  Sheriff  felt  the  blood  tingling  to  his  neck. 

"No,  Bam.  I'm  only  a  miserable  Sheriff;  no 
money — nothing.  And  the  lady  she's  a  great, 
rich  woman;  and  all  the  white  millionaires  are 
after  her.     Thev  want  her." 


250  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

"  What's  millionaire?  " 

"  A  man  with  heaps  of  money,  Bam.  A  man 
who  has  money  to  burn — to  spend — to  give  to  the 
girl  when  he  marries  her." 

^^  How  much  money?  " 

"  Oh,  barrels  full  of  gold,  Bam.  Barrels — 
rivers — tepees — houses  full,  full  of  gold." 

"  Huh !  "  nodded  the  Indian, ''  Chief  Butts  call 
it  dough." 

"  That's  the  idea,"  echoed  the  Sheriff.  "  Dough. 
A  millionaire  is  full  o'  dough ;  that's  the  word." 

"  If  Indian  chief  was  millionaire  he  no  fill  up 
with  gold — he  fill  up  with  whiskey,"  murmured 
the  Indian. 

"  There  is  very  little  difference  between  the 
red  man  and  the  white  man.  Bam.  But  I'm  not 
in  love  anyway."  The  Sheriff  kicked  a  pebble 
abstractedly  and  watched  it  fall  into  space. 

"  The  white  hunter,  the  friend  of  Talabam, 
tells  not  the  truth.  He  loves,  and  the  chief 
knows  it;  for  the  chief  sees  the  blood  in  his 
brother's  cheek  and  he  sees  the  falling  of  his  eye- 
lids. Wasco  poor  like  poor  Indian,  and  he  loves 
a  great  chief's  daughter.  He  steals  her  not,  for 
he  is  a  great  brave,  so  he  goes  on  the  long  trail 
far  from  her  father's  wigwam." 

Talabam  had  lapsed  into  his  own  melodious 
language  wherein  expression  was  easier. 

"  Chief  Butts  is  a  great  man.     Once  he  told 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  251 

Talabam  that  dough  was  great,  greater  than  the 
four  winds  of  heaven.  But  Talabam  said  nay— 
that  gold  was  not  everlasting  like  the  winds; 
also  the  fair  name  of  a  brave  w^as  greater  than 
gold.  Wasco  is  wise.  It  might  be  the  maiden 
w^ould  marry  him,  for  white  maidens  are  foolish 
like  Indian  maidens;  and  then  for  long  winters 
and  summers  she  would  weep  for  the  million- 
aires." 

"  To  hell  with  the  millionaires ! "  exclaimed 

the  Sheriff  suddenly. 

The  Indian  shook  his  head.  "No,  Wasco. 
The  land  of  the  hot  fires,  and  the  everlasting 
Chinook  fog,  and  the  itch,  and  the  thirst  that 
makes  the  stomach  dry,  is  too  much  the  land  of 
peace  for  the  men  with  the  dough.  Chief  Butts 
says  hell  is  too  good  for  them." 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  sat  on  a  rock  and 
chortled. 

"  Bam— dear  old  Bam,— you're  the  same 
darned  fool  you  always  w^ere." 

The  Indian's  eyes  snapped  and  his  teeth 
showed  white  through  his  weird  smile.  "The 
Sheriff  must  get  the  dough,  and  then  the  white 
maiden  will  be  happy,  for  she  loves,  and  her 
lover  will  have  more  than  a  millionaire." 

"  Blame  you.  Bam,  dry  up.    You've  got  wheels. 

You're  off.    Your  head  is  full  of  mountain  air." 

"  I  know  not  of  what  Wasco  mean.     But  he 


252  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

shall  be  as  ricli  as  Talabam,  and  Talabam  can 
buy  horses  and  cattle  and  all  the  squaws  in  the 
country;  but  it  no  use  to  him,  for  his  Indian 
squaw  is  strong  and  throw^s  the  tomahawk  like 
the  Evil  One.'' 

The  Sheriff  was  blue  in  the  face,  but  the  chief 
was  serious. 

"  Listen,"  he  continued,  "  Wasco  and  Talabam 
kill  Hardeman,  then  the  Yakima  will  show  to 
his  brother  a  river  that  is  small  as  a  serpent. 
It  runs  through  rock  and  sand  into  the  great 
ocean,  and  leaves  in  the  sands  dough ;  dough  that 
is  fine,  and  dough  that  is  big  in  lumps  like  the 
end  of  Wasco's  finger,  and  that  will  fill  barrels 
and  houses  and  tepees.  Below  us  is  the  mine  of 
the  Mandora,  but  Talabam's  river  runs  a  hun- 
dred times  more  gold  than  the  mine  will  show  in 
the  lifetime  of  a  grizzly." 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco's  face  was  a  study. 
Amazement,  interest,  doubt  were  in  it.  A  new 
and  glorious  world  seemed  already  opening  be- 
fore him;  it  was  as  though  the  dream  of  a  life- 
time had  in  one  moment  been  turned  to  truth. 

"Why  does  Talabam  tell  his  friend  this?"  he 
asked  sceptically. 

The  Indian  stepped  nearer.  "  Because  there  is 
too  much  for  one  tribe.  Wasco  knows  now  why 
the  family  of  Talabam  is  famous, — dough.  And 
because  the  devil  boy  is  a  brave  of  a  noble  neart 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  253 

and  loves  but  one  maiden — and  because  Talabam 
remembers  the  day  that  he  fell  in  the  Thunder 
Kapids.-' 

The  Sheriff  seized  the  Indian's  brown  hand, 
but  the  chiefs  eyes  met  his  steadily  as  he  went 
on: 

"  The  man  w^ho  loves  but  one  maiden  is  a  great 
brave.  He  will  make  the  history  of  his  tribe 
sung  from  the  sea  of  Behring  to  the  Oregon. 
Talabam  tells  Wasco  now^  to  love  one  only;  for 
the  evil  spirit  laughs  when  a  chi^f  loves  too 
many,  and  his  first  squaw  goes  on  the  w^ar- 
path.-' 

There  was  a  note  of  plaintive  sadness  in  the 
henpecked  Tsarrior's  voice,  and  the  Sheriff  real- 
ized that  the  woman  question  was  as  keen  in  the 
great  Olympics  as  in  the  settlement  of  the  white 
man. 

He  was  about  to  answer  cheerily  when  the 
Indian  swung  his  hand  eastward  towarJs  the 
opposite  mountain.  The  Sheriff  of  Wasco 
shaded  his  eyes  and  peered  across  the  deep  val- 
ley. Now  and  again  a  dark  spot  seemed  to  fade 
across  the  face  of  the  cliff  and  disappear.  The 
Sheriff  studied  them  carefullv. 

"Men,  Talabam?  What  does  that  mean?'' 
he  asked  sharply. 

"  Braves — the  braves  of  the  Yakimas,"  w^as  the 
laconic  answer. 


254  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASVO, 

It  was  clear  what  the  wily  Talabam  was  doing. 
The  Indians  were  to  be  in  the  mountains  not  far 
off  when  white  man  met  white  man ;  for  the  chief 
foresaw  that  the  miners  might  rally  round  the 
new  Boss  when  they  saw  him  in  danger  at  the 
law's  hands,  despite  the  fact  that  he  had  killed 
four  of  them  but  a  short  time  before.  Birds  of 
a  feather  flock  together  the  world  over;  and  the 
western  Olympics  and  the  lonely  mines  of  the 
coast  were  the  hiding-places  of  many  men  who 
asked  no  questions  and  expected  to  answer  none; 
who  wished  to  be  removed  as  far  and  as  securely 
as  possible  from  that  product  of  civilization  they 
hated  and  feared — the  law. 

'^  The  braves  must  keep  off,"  said  the  Sheriff 
of  Wasco  harshly. 

The  other  shook  his  head.  "The  Yakimas 
obey  Talabam,  not  Wasco,  and  Talabam  will 
make  one  white  man  fight  one  white  man.  If 
the  gold-diggers  want  to  fight  the  Sheriff  all  to- 
gether, then  the  war-cry  of  the  Yakimas  will 
sound.'' 

"  Look-a-here,  Chief,"  the  Sheriff  was  angry, 
"  look-a-here,  now,  I  know  how  you  feel  about  it ; 
but  don't  let  the  braves  come  around  near  me. 
Understand?  " 

Talabam  grunted  disgustedly.  "  Yes,  I  keep 
the  braves  away.     But  the  white  brother  shall 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  255 

not  go  into  the  diggings  alone;  the  men  are  all 
bad  men." 

"  Bosh ! "  retorted  the  Sheriff  spiritedly. 
"Alone,  I'll  go;  and  I'll  get  Hardeman  too." 

The  chief  shook  his  head  stubbornly. 

"  The  little  white  devil  boy  shall  not  go  alone 
— his  brother  Bammy  goes  where  he  goes." 

That  afternoon  the  fog  lifted  from  the  valley 
and  the  miners'  shacks  were  exposed  to  view. 
The  desolate  little  settlement  had  long  since  for- 
gotten its  day  of  insubordination  and  its  dead, 
and  the  New  Boss  was  sitting  on  the  step,  chew- 
ing viciously,  while  the  men  sullenly  slouched 
about  their  preparation  for  supper. 

"  To-morrow  we'll  clean  up — an'  to-morrow 
night  I'll  light  out  with  a  few  sacks  of  the  yaller 
from  the  creek  yonder.  Never  saw  the  like  of  it," 
muttered  the  New  Boss.  "  Meanwhile,  I'll  start 
a  game  to-night.  Nothing  like  a  good  stiff  one 
to  make  the  boys  ferget  the  departed.  I'll  stack 
the  cyards  to  lose  a  few  hundreds  to  'em;  that'll 
make  'em  dead  easy  to  handle." 

He  was  suddenly  interrupted.  A  tall  plumed 
Indian,  bow  in  hand,  stalked  across  the  camp 
from  the  forest  opposite,  straight  towards  the 
shack.  A  visit  from  an  Indian  was  not  uncom- 
mon; but  the  miners  halted  in  their  movements 
and  viewed  with  interest  the  coming  of  this  one; 


256  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

for  he  was  alone,  and  they  knew  him  for  the 
Chief  Talabam. 

Straight  for  the  Boss  he  strode,  and  stopping 
in  front  of  him  remarked: 

^'  The  Chief  wants  whiskey." 

The  Boss  expectorated  scornfully :  "  Nothin' 
doin',  Chief.  Rum  and  wimmin  ain't  stoppin' 
here." 

Talabam  sat  down  on  the  ground  disgustedly. 

^'  Hunt  no  good,"  he  declared.  '^  Talabam 
want  get  drunk."  The  miners  overhearing, 
chuckled.  The  chief  was  evidently  on  one  of  his 
sprees',   occasions  worthy   of  close   attention. 

"  Fire-water ! "  demanded  Talabam,  again, 
"  — rum !  " 

"  Nothin'  doin',  Chief;  only  a  game  after  sup- 
per !  " 

The  Indian  looked  bored.  '^  Talabam  wait," 
he  nodded,  "  no  whiskey;  then  game." 

The  eyes  of  the  Boss  kindled.  He  would 
lose  to  the  boys,  but  he  would  fleece  this  red- 
skin, and  the  boys  would  help. 

The  long  evening  began  with  the  game  in  the 
open.  The  table  w^as  a  couple  of  boards  braced 
across  two  stones;  the  Boss  sat  on  the  top 
of  a  heavy  box,  his  revolver  beside  him  on  the 
crude  table.  His  assistant  and  a  foreman,  also 
heavily  armed,  stood  carelessly  near;  but  the 
miners  were  all  unarmed  as  was  the  camp  rule. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  257 

All  hands  were  watching  the  game,  in  w^hich  sat 
fiye — the  Indian  the  most  unconcerned  of  the  lot. 
The  Boss  lost  repeatedly,  as  he  had  pur- 
posed, and  the  men  were  secretly  jubilant.  Then 
the  sign  came,  and  the  "  skinning  "  of  the  Indian 
began. 

The  game  was  high.  Every  time  that  he  lost, 
Talabam  grunted,  and  reaching  into  his  clothes 
brought  forth  nuggets  and  dust,  and  the  miners' 
eyes  glistened  with  avarice.  They  had  heard  of 
his  great  wealth,  but  never  had  seen  him  so 
heavy  with  gold  before.  Usually  when  the  In- 
dian dealt,  the  pot  was  his;  but  though  they  had 
a  shrewd  suspicion  that  he  cheated,  none  cared, 
for  he  was  bound  to  lose  in  the  end. 

One  by  one  the  miners  fell  out,  until  the 
Boss  was  alone  with  Talabam.  There  was  a 
feeling  of  unrest  now;  the  men  were  afraid  to  sit 
in  a  game  where  the  limit  was  the  skies,  and 
where  the  Boss  was  evidently  betting  with  the 
company's  dust. 

Talabam  glanced  at  the  darkening  sky  line, 
then  reaching  into  his  bosom  drew  forth  a  bag 
of  nuggets. 

The  Boss  dealt.  All  hands  saw  him  "  feed  " 
himself  an  ace ;  but  Talabam  winced  not. 

"  I  go  this,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  put  the  nug- 
gets on  the  boards.  It  was  a  heavy  hand;  the 
heaviest  many  had  ever  seen. 


258  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

The  Boss  called.  The  Indian  had  two  pairs — ■ 
the  Boss  four  aces;  and  the  men  roared  in  glee. 

"  Talabam  damn  bad  player/'  said  the  chief 
slowly,  as  he  arose.  "  The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  is 
heap  better." 

That  instant  a  stranger  stepped  to  the  board, 
and  reaching  sideways,  handed  his  rifle  to  Tala- 
bam, without  a  word.  His  visored  cap  was 
cocked  backward,  his  clean  cut  face,  drawn 
tense,  was  young  and  handsome. 

It  was  all  so  quickly  done,  so  silently,  that  not 
a  soul  moved  save  the  Boss,  who  slid  his  hand 
quietly  towards  his  gun  on  the  table. 

The  Sheriff  hunched  his  right  shoulder 
slightly,  his  hand  moved  downward;  then  his 
arm  crooked,  and  a  blue  barrel  gleamed  in  the 
evening  light.  The  Boss  had  not  closed  on 
his  weapon  yet;  he  lacked  the  fraction  of  a 
second. 

"  Hands  up,  Hardeman — you're  my  prisoner." 

The  voice  was  ice.  The  sharp,  low  words 
ripped  the  chilled  air  like  a  knife-edge — but 
Hardeman,  quick  as  the  flash  of  an  adder's 
tongue,  closed  on  his  weapon.  His  bram  had 
seen  it  all — it  was  his  last  chance;  but  to  the 
onlookers  it  seemed  minutes  that  the  muzzle 
climbed  upwards.  Then  came  a  roar  from 
across  the  table  and  the  outlaw's  weapon  sailed 
backwards  over  his  shoulder. 


"Hands  up,  Hardeman  — you're  my  prisoner. 


Page  368 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  259 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  stood  with  smoking  Colt 
in  hand. 

''  Damn  you,"  he  drawled,  *'  I  told  you  ^  hands 
up '  and  I  meant  it." 

The  outlaw  raised  both  hands  skyward. 
There  was  a  bloody  streak  upon  the  ri^ht. 

^'  Gentlemen,  the  Boss  is  Hardeman  the  outlaw, 
and  I've  come  from  Oregon  with  due  authority  to 
get  him.  And  the  first  man  who  makes  a  move 
against  the  law — will — die — noicf 

The  voice  was  strangely  quiet  and  rather  pleas- 
ant; there  was  a  melodious  ring  to  it,  and  the 
youthful  Sheriff  half  smiled  as  he  spoke.  But 
the  words  worked  magic  in  the  attitude  of  the 
men.  Collected  as  thev  were  from  everywhere, 
and  mostly  of  bad  repute,  they  had  early  felt  the 
tie  of  evil  kinship  in  the  New  Boss,  especially 
since  the  day  he  had  arisen  in  his  might  and 
proved  his  mastership  over  them  by  murdering 
four  of  their  number.  So  this  man  who  had 
ruled  them  with  iron  hand — this  Scott — was 
Hardeman,  the  great  notorious  outlaw.  The 
revelation  instantly  raised  him  to  the  position 
of  a  hero  in  their  eyes,  and  instinctively  the  wild 
outlawry  and  wickedness  inherent  in  their 
natures  awoke  and  swung  them  strongly  in  his 
favor  and  against  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco.  To  be 
sure,  the  Sheriff  had  the  drop  on  the  New  Boss, 
and  things  looked  black  for  him — but  what  of 


260  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

that?  This  young,  lithe,  nonchalant  Sheriff  was 
an  absurdity,  talking  of  law's  supremacy  out 
here  in  the  wilds — and  to  men  such  as  they, 
who  hated  law^  as  they  hated  poison.  True,  he 
was  rated  a  desperate  fighter,  but  that  counted 
for  naught ;  it  was  a  foolish  matter  of  reputation 
only.  His  voice  was  mellow  and  ringing  and 
even  pleasant,  and  that  smile  of  his  had  no 
threat  in  it;  he  was  a  youngster  making  a  strong 
play  to  theirij  fighters  and  desperadoes  from 
everywhere,  and  they  would  teach  him  a  lesson 
he  would  alw^ays  remember — this*  rakish,  over- 
confident fool  of  a  youth. 

A  growl  swept  through  the  crowd,  and  glanc- 
ing quickly  one  at  the  other  they  united  upon 
their  action.  Hardeman  should  not  be  taken 
thus.  This  youngster  with  the  cap  was  no  match 
for  men  such  as  they  were.  His  history? — his 
record?    Bah!    Moonshine! 

They  rushed  forward  in  a  body,  the  assistant 
Boss  and  the  foreman  with  weapons  drawn  si- 
multaneously. The  Sheriff  wheeled  to  face  them, 
and  his  Colt  blazed  twice.  The  foreman  toppled 
to  the  ground  with  a  gasp.  The  assistant  Boss 
stood  upright  for  an  instant;  then  his  body  spun 
and  collapsed  in  a  heap  across  the  table,  his 
lifted  skull-cap  gaping  widely. 

"  I'm  sorry,  gentlemen,"  spoke  the  Sheriff 
again.    "  Sorry — but  it  was  foolish  of  them." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  261 

The  miners  fell  back  in  a  mass,  their  faces 
blanched,  their  eves  staring  large  with  fearful 
surprise  at  this  self-contained,  sarcastic  young- 
ster— as  they  had  thought  him.  Then  realization 
at  the  flood-tide  swept  down  on  them,  and  they 
turned  and  fled. — This  was  the  man  they  had 
heard  of,  dreamed  of,  dreaded.  And  how  they 
had  misjudged  him  at  first  sight.  Now  he  was 
here,  near  them,  smilingly  waiting  to  be  inter- 
fered with,  and  they  wanted  no  more. 

The  Sheriff  turned  to  the  outlaw,  who  with  up- 
lifted hands  still  stood  as  immovable  as  a  statue, 
the  sweat  pouring  from  his  face,  and  his  blood- 
shot eyes  riveted  on  his  captor  in  deadly  hatred. 

"  Will  you  come,  Hardeman? — or  shall  we 
fight  it  out  here,  now?  "  The  Sheriff  grinned  as 
he  spoke,  and  the  outlaw  lurched  forward,  arms 
in  air. 

"  You've  got  me,"  he  cried  surlily.  ^^  But  don't 
you  forget — the  girl  was  mine  firstJ^ 

He  struck  instinctively  at  the  weak  spot  in 
his  foe's  armor.  The  Sheriff's  face  turned  livid. 
The  veins  of  his  forehead  swelled,  and  his  face 
took  on  a  fury  fearful  to  see. 

^'  Take  that  back,"  he  cried  hoarsely. 
"  Quick." 

Hardeman  saw  the  barrel  of  the  Sheriff's  Colt 
pointing  straight  at  his  face,  and  he  lurched 
away. 


262  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

"  I'm  a  fool/'  he  muttered,  ^'  you  win.'' 

Talabam  stooped  and  picked  up  the  fallen 
weapons  of  the  dead  men  and  the  captive.  Then 
the  Sheriff  ordered  Hardeman's  hands  down,  and 
the  chief  bound  them  securely  before  him  with 
a  rope. 

Once  more  the  man  with  the  Colt  spoke, — 
quietly  enough  now. 

*'  Hardeman,  as  the  Sheriff,  my  duty  is  to  take 
you  back  alive,  if  possible.  If  you  attempt  escape 
— or  if  you  tell  me  any  more  of  your  damned 
lies — then  it  won't  be  possible  to  take  you  back 
alive.    Is  the  English  clear?    Now  walk." 

Hardeman  trudged  forward  along  the  trail  to 
the  mountains,  the  Sheriff  and  Talabam  close 
behind. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HARDEMAN^S  DEFIANCE. 

The  Sheriff  hurried  his  prisoner  up  the  trail 
at  a  terrific  pace.  With  bound  wrists  the  out- 
law stumbled  and  lurched,  and  now  and  again 
Talabam  was  forced  to  pull  him  over  a  difficult 
section.  Hardeman  was  meek  enough  now,  but 
the  Sheriff  was  on  the  lookout  for  treachery. 
There  might  be  a  rally  among  the  miners,  an  at- 
tempted rescue  at  some  dangerous  spot  ahead. 

Darkness  ^'as  falling  with  great  rapidity. 
During  one  of  the  short  periods  of  rest  allowed 
the  captive  the  chief  turned  and  looked  anx- 
iously towards  the  Pacific  in  the  distance.  His 
companion's  eyes  followed,  sweeping  the  horizon 
keenly  and  silently.  Great  black  masses  were 
advancing  towards  the  zenith,  and  the  evening 
stars  overhead  would  soon  be  obscured  in  appall- 
ing darkness. 

"  Huh !  Chief  make  for  cave,"  grunted  Tala- 
bam. "  The  storm  comes,  with  the  cold  wind 
and  the  snow.    We  are  high,  Wasco,  high.'' 

263 


264  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

On  they  trudged  for  perhaps  two  miles,  then 
the  Indian  led  downward  a  thousand  feet,  and 
along  a  spur  of  a  granite  ridge,  where  the  footing 
was  narrow  and  dangerous.  They  came  out 
upon  soft  earth  and  rock  formation,  clothed 
here  and  there  with  scrub  pines.  A  few  minutes 
more,  and,  turning  a  rocky  projection,  they 
stood  before  a  cave  running  back  into  the  hill- 
side. The  ground  fell  abruptly  from  the  edge 
of  a  small  plateau  at  the  entrance,  and  the  not 
far  distant  roar  of  water  told  of  the  rushing 
river  below. 

The  chief  struck  a  match,  and  determined 
that  the  place  was  empty.  Crawling  over  the 
boulder  that  had  fallen  across  the  cave's  mouth 
the  three  were  soon  within. 

"  Make  fire  now,"  said  Talabam,  '^  nobody 
come.    Impossible." 

Without,  the  wind  whistled  stormily,  and 
protected  as  they  were  they  were  chilled  to 
the  marrow.  The  Chinook  of  the  morning  had 
given  way  to  an  icy  blast  from  Behring  Sea. 
Lightnings  leaped  forth,  and  thunder  crashed 
repeatedly,  throwing  all  the  valley  below  into 
view,  with  its  trees  bending  heavily  to  the 
blast. 

Talabam  collected  wood,  and  soon  had  a 
small  fire  built;  then  Hardeman,  apparently  ex- 
hausted, his  spirit  broken,  flung  himself  against 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  263 

the  boulder,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  deep  in 
sleep. 

Talabam  dozed  by  the  fire.  The  Sheriff  sat 
on  a  flat  stone,  his  eyes  meditatively  fixed  on 
Hardeman.  His  revolver  was  in  its  holster,  and 
his  hands  were  clasped  around  one  knee. 

Minute  after  minute  passed  while  he  sat  there 
like  a  statue  in  bronze,  his  eyes  showing  no 
weariness,  his  face  stern  and  quiet  and  emotion- 
less. The  cold  rain  had  long  since  come  like  a 
deluge,  and  turned  to  hail  that  pounded  the  face 
of  the  mountain  without  with  a  din  that  con- 
fused all  other  sounds. 

Talabam  shook  himself  into  wakefulness. 
Then  the  Sheriff  gave  him  his  seat  and  moved 
around  in  an  attempt  to  warm  up.  Two  of  the 
captured  revolvers  were  swinging  at  the  chiefs 
hip,  while  Hardeman's  gleaming  Colt  lay  be- 
yond the  boulder,  where  it  had  been  placed  well 
out  of  his  possible  reach. 

The  Sheriff  stood  over  him  and  gazed  into  his 
exhausted  face. 

"  An  evil  spirit,  Wasco,"  volunteered  the  chief 
gruffly.    "  An  evil  spirit  that  sleeps.'^ 

The  Sheriff  was  thoughtful. 

"Yes,  Bam — a  bad  man,  but  he's  close  to 
death  now.    He's  a  poor  devil  after  all."  ' 

The    chief    spat    disgustedly    into    the    fire. 


266  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

''  Wasco  don't  like  kill  men.     Wasco  too  much 
tender  heart." 

The  Sheriff  shook  his  head. 

"  The  chief  does  not  like  to  kill  either.  But 
the  chief  will  kill  if  it  must  be — and  so  it  is 
with  Vv^asco.'' 

They  listened  to  the  furious  storm.  It  was 
raining  again.  Rivulets  from  the  banks  above 
trickled  across  the  cave's  mouth  and  disap- 
peared in  the  sandy  plauteau.  The  river  some- 
where below  was  now  a  torrent,  dashing  vehe- 
mently onv/ard  toward  the  forest  and  the  distant 
ocean.  The  darkness  without  vras  appalling, 
save  when  the  lightning  flashed.  Occasionally 
a  dull,  curious,  grinding  sound  became  audible, 
which  lasted  a  minute  or  so,  perhaps,  then  grew 
to  a  cracking  roar  that  ceased  as  the  earth 
shook  with  a  distant  impact.  The  Indian 
broke  the  silence  of  the  two  men,  and  there 
was  anxiety  in  his  voice.  "  The  earth  moves, 
Wasco." 

Every  man  in  that  region  had  seen  the  whole 
or  part  of  a  mountain  side  slip  from  its  granite 
ribs,  and  slide  thundering  into  the  valley.  Of- 
ten these  slides  were  small  and  unimportant  and 
did  not  materially  change  the  landscape,  but  al 
times,  especially  after  a  heavy  rain,  and  when 
the  valley  beneath  became  undermined  by  torren- 
tial downpours,  a  large  section  of  the  mountain 


TEE  SHERIFF  OF  WslSCO.  267 

slopes  would  break  away  and  rush  irresistibly 
downward. 

Even  as  Talabam  spoke  the  wind  and  the 
rain  and  the  torrent  seemed  to  redouble  their 
fury. 

"  Where  rests  the  white  maiden  and  her 
father?--  queried  the  chief  hurriedly.  "Wasco 
said  in  the  valley  below  yonder?  " 

"  Yes/'  said  the  Sheriff,  "'  at  Jones'  cabin. 
There  is  danger,  Bam,  that  the  valley  will  be 
flooded  with  this  rain." 

Another  interval  of  silence  fell  in  the  cave, 
while  the  Sheriff's  mind,  occupied  with  this  new 
anxiety,  was  somewhat  withdrawn  from  the  cap- 
tive, who  to  all  appearance  slept.  He  was  re- 
called on  a  sudden  by  a  slight,  stealthy  fum- 
bling of  the  bound  hands,  and  he  found  Harde- 
man's malevolent  eyes  fixed  steadily  and  watch- 
fully on  him.  It  was  manifest  that  the  outlaw 
had  been  feigning  sleep  and  had  overheard  part 
at  least  of  the  conversation. 

For  a  few  seconds  neither  of  the  two  spoke. 
It  seemed  to  Talabam  that  the  two  white  men 
each  measured  the  strength  of  the  other  in  their 
silent,  comprehensive  stare;  then  the  Sheriff 
leaned  nearer  to  the  captive,  and  his  quiet  but 
relentless  voice  could  be  heard  cleaily  beneath 
the  howl  of  the  wind. 

"  Don't    meddle   with   that   rope,   Hardeman, 


268  TEE  8EERIFF  OF  WASCO. 


It's  your  only  hold  on  life  just  now — and  you 
might  loosen  it.'' 

^'  You've  got  my  gun.  What  would  you  do? — 
shoot? "  inquired  the  prisoner,  braving  it  out 
with  an  evil  smile. 

The  Sheriff's  silence  was  significant  enough 
for  answer,  but  it  did  not  satisfy  Hardeman's 
accumulated  spite  and  hatred  of  the  man  who 
had  beaten  him. 

"  Loose  me  yourself.  Give  me  my  gun,  an' 
let's  fight  this  quarrel  out  man  to  man.  Maybe 
my  hold  on  life  ain't  any  shorter  'n  yours  if  I 
had  your  show.  Are  you  afraid  to  take  the 
chance? " 

The  firelight  showed  a  slight  flush  on  the 
Sheriff's  face,  but  otherwise  he  gave  no  sign  that 
the  taunt  of  such  a  man  as  this  had  power  to 
disturb  him. 

"  You  got  3^our  chance  some  hours  back, 
Hardeman,  an'  lost  it,"  he  said  equably.  "  Be- 
sides which,  this  here's  no  personal  matter  be- 
tween you  an'  me.  I'm  Sheriff,  an'  it's  my  duty 
to  take  you  back  to  Wasco  an'  let  the  law  settle 
with  you.  That's  what  I'm  goin'  to  do,  though 
it's  certainly  violatin'  certain  private  feelin's  I 
hold  regardin'  you." 

'^  Skulkin'  behind  yer  office,"  laughed  Harde- 
man, sneeringly.  "  Couldn't  you  possibly  fer- 
get  you  was  a  sheriff  an'  be  a  man   fer  five 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  269 

minutes?"  With  mockery  on  his  lips  he  raised 
himself  on  his  elbows  to  a  sitting  posture  and 
leered  steadfastly  at  the  quiet  Sheriff.  ''You 
don't  think  this  is  a  personal  matter,  eh?" 
he  inquired  slowly.  "  Well,  I  do.  It's  a  blamed 
personal  matter  with  me,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  talk 
about  it." 

"  Better  not,"  said  the  Sheriff. 

But  the  mocking  voice  deliberately  went  on. 
Hardeman  knew  his  man,  and  knew  just  how 
far  the  cobweb  restraints  of  duty  and  honor 
would  hold  such  a  one.  To  him  it  was  divert- 
ing to  think  that  they  held  at  all.  Xever  in  his 
life  had  Hardeman  been  guilty  of  any  such  fool- 
ishness. 

"  Say,  you've  got  the  best  o'  me,  haven't  you? 
I'm  talkin'  here  to  you  as  man  to  man,  but  you 
don't  have  to  listen.  I'm  in  a  bad  fix.  You're 
Sheriff,  an'  you've  got  my  gun.  I'm  all  tied  up 
too;  couldn't  hurt  you  if  I  wanted.  Why  don't 
you  shoot  me,  an'  throw  mv  bodv  into  the  river? 
There  ain't  anybody  goin'  to  ask  you  questions; 
an'  if  they  did  you  could  tell  'em  it  was  all  in 
the  line  o'  yer  duty.  Tliafs  one  o'  the  beau- 
ties o'  bein'  Sheriff,  ain't  it?"  Hardeman 
paused;  enjoyment  curled  the  corners  of  his  hard 
wild  mouth  upward  as  he  perceived  the  work  of 
emotions  on  the  face  opposite;  then  he  dis- 
charged another  shot  from  his  plentiful  ammu- 


270  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

nition  of  spite.  "  No  danger  o'  this  redskin 
tellin'  as  how  you  did  it  because  I  loved  the  same 
girl  you  did?  " 

There  followed  a  tense,  doubtful  second  when 
the  Sheriff's  long  body  tightened  as  though 
every  muscle  in  it  w^ere  preparing  to  leap.  Tala- 
bam  in  the  shadow  grunted  hopefully,  and  the 
jeering  reprobate  by  the  boulder  winced  per- 
ceptibly and  his  evil  mouth  stiffened.  Possibly 
he  had  gone  too  far.  Next  second  he  knew  he 
was  safe  as  yet.  His  captor's  strenuous  body 
was  nearer  to  him  by  a  foot,  but  it  had  re- 
laxed, and  the  look  which  had  brought  a  vision 
of  instant  death  had  passed. 

^^  I'm  Sheriff.  You  seem  to  have  got  that 
lucky  fact  pretty  well  fixed  in  your  mind,  an'  I 
guess  you  don't  count  on  any  o'  these  low  tricks 
o'  yours  to  make  me  forget  it.  All  the  same  I'm 
human,  an'  you  be  careful." 

Again  ensued  that  long,  fierce,  w^ordless  con- 
test of  strength  in  which  only  the  eyes  of  the 
combatants  fought;  and  in  which  Hardeman  ac- 
knowledged defeat  by  a  loud,  jeering  laugh,  and 
rolled  his  body  further  off. 

"No  offense.  Sheriff.  Thought  you  said  it 
wasn't  a  personal  matter."  Then  the  passion  of 
violence  and  wrath  burning  in  the  man  burst 
through  his  thin  crust  of  pretence;  his  lips  drew 
back  in  a  snarl,  and  his  face  assumed  the  look  of 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  271 

a  strange,  dangerous  beast.  Rage  shook  his  voice 
above  its  vicious,  treacherously  even  pitch. 

^'  Damn  it,  you  think  you've  got  a  copyright 
on  love.  I  was  first  in  that  love  game,  an' 
you  know  it.  That's  what  bites  you.  'Taint 
no  matter  o'  law  nor  Wasco,  but  just  that. 
Hand  over  my  gun,  an'  come  out  from  behind 
yer  ofiQce  an'  fight.  Our  ways  o'  play  in'  a  love 
game  differ  considerable.  I  ain't  got  the  nat- 
ural high  tone  of  a  sheriff,  but  if  you  hadn't 
took  a  hand  when  you  did  I  guess  my  way  'd 
'a  won  out.  You  wouldn't  'a  figgered — you  her.r? 
— you  skulkin'  poltroon  of  a  weazened  Sheriff." 

The  Sheriff  heard  him  out  in  silence,  with  a 
look  of  strong  yet  patiently-restrained  disgust. 
Only  when  the  talk  wandered  toward  the  girl 
his  hand  had  slipped  downward  to  his  side,  per- 
haps in  warning,  more  likely  in  anger,  but  had 
hung  there  inactive  after  the  first  impulse.  The 
warmth  of  his  face  showed  whether  the  words 
had  bitten,  but  with  a  quietude  of  authority  not 
to  be  gainsaid  he  brought  the  interview  to  a 
prompt  finish. 

"  Hardeman,  from  now  on  keep  your  tongue 
leashed.  I  am  taking  you  back  to  Wasco  alive, 
if  I  can.  Perhaps  you  don't  quite  catch  the 
logic  of  that  procedure.  There  isn't  a  man  livin' 
that  would  like  to  meet  you  hand-to-hand  better 
than  I  would,  but  there's  a  something  governing 


272  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

me  now  that  you  never  could  properly  appre- 
ciate, an'  that's  what  white  men  call  duty.  Once 
we  get  back,  the  boys  will  give  up  a  lynching, 
maybe,  to  satisfy  your  anxiety  for  a  fight. 
Meanwhile  you  shut  up  tight.  Understand? 
Tight ! '' 

There  was  an  indefinable  something  in  the 
Sheriff's  voice,  a  peculiar  melodious  ring — low 
and  rather  pleasant.  Hardeman  had  heard  the 
note  before,  when  the  Sheriff  had  captured  him. 
He  remembered  the  end  of  the  foreman  and  the 
assistant  Boss,  and  he  knew  that  death  was  be- 
hind that  voice.  With  a  grunt  of  malice  he 
turned  and  rolled  himself  into  a  heap  by  the 
boulder. 

A  long  silence  fell  again  within  the  cave;  but 
as  the  night  wore  on  the  storm  began  to  show 
signs  of  abating.  Talabam,  seated  with  his 
back  against  one  wall  of  the  cave,  nodded 
wearily,  the  dancing  light  of  the  camp  fire  re- 
flected between  his  closing  eyelids.  The  Sheriff 
was  still  quietly  watching  the  outlaw,  who  to 
all  appearances  had  returned  to  his  slumbers 
by  the  boulder.  Once  or  twice  the  crafty  pris- 
oner had  turned  as  though  in  troubled  sleep, 
and  each  time  that  he  did  so  he  opened  his  eyes 
slightly  and  with  such  care  as  to  elude  even  the 
fixed  regard  of  the  Sherife.  Only  for  a  fleeting 
second  did  Hardeman's  glance  turn  upward  to 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  273 

the  roof  of  the  cave,  but  what  he  saw  there 
brought  hope  and  patience  to  his  heart. 

The  minutes  passed  by  and  ran  into  the  half 
hour;  when  on  the  silence  and  quietude  of  the 
three  men  there  came  a  momentary  creak,  a 
sucking  sound;  and  next  instant  part  of  the 
earthy  roof  above  their  heads  came  tumbling 
down,  spreading  itself  in  a  slimy  mass  upon 
Talabam  and  the  Sheriff,  and  followed  by  a 
volume  of  water  from  above. 

The  two  were  momentarily  covered,  and  the 
awaited  opportunity  had  come  to  Hardeman. 
With  a  spring  he  was  up  and  upon  Talabam, 
and  by  one  sweeping  blow  of  his  tied  hands  on 
the  Indian's  jaw  felled  him  like  a  log.  Next 
instant  he  had  leaped  for  the  Sheriff,  who, 
blinded  by  the  mass  of  ooze  and  water  from 
above,  was  caught  at  disadvantage.  Hardeman's 
body  struck  him  with  the  shock  of  a  catapult, 
and  sent  him  staggering  and  sprawling  back- 
w^ard  to  the  floor  of  the  cave.  In  the  same  mo- 
ment the  desperado  had  stooped  and  secured  the 
cartridge  belt  and  revolver  at  the  foot  of  the 
boulder,  and  grasping  them  both  in  his  bound 
hands  leveled  the  ugly  Colt  at  the  dazed,  half- 
blinded  Sheriff,  who  was  making  desperate  ef- 
forts to  arise  to  his  feet. 

It  was  Hardeman's  hour.  He  could  not  have 
wished  a  finer  or  more  glorious  moment  than 


274  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

this  of  complete  triumph  over  his  sworn  enemy; 
and  the  mocking  devil  in  him  delayed  his  ven- 
geance a  little  that  he  might  enjoy  it  the  better. 

"  I've  got  you  now,  my  infant.  Got  you 
straight,  ain't  I?  "  he  inquired,  with  a  low,  malig- 
nant chuckle.  "  Thought  you'd  stack  up  against 
Hardeman,  did  you?  You  made  a  mistake,  sou. 
You're  dead  easy,  you  are." 

Talabam,  only  half  conscious,  groaned  and 
made  an  effort  to  rise,  but  reeled  back  into  ob- 
livion again. 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco,  despite  the  pointing 
weapon,  struggled  up  to  his  feet  and  his  hand  de- 
scended to  his  Colt.  Before  he  could  grasp  it 
he  received  a  w^ell-directed  kick  in  the  stomach. 
As  the  nerve  impulses  ascended  from  the  solar 
plexus  he  felt  a  curious  warmth  pervade  his 
frame,  to  be  instantly  succeeded  by  a  tingling  of 
arms  and  legs,  followed  by  indescribable  nausea 
and  dizziness.  He  tried  to  move,  but  his  legs 
were  as  lead;  his  arms  swung  before  him  with- 
out sensation.  With  a  groan  of  unutterable 
anguish  he  sank  to  the  floor  as  Hardeman  bent 
above  him. 

"  Well — w^ell — w^ell !  there  goes  one  busted 
reputation.  The  Sheriff  of  Wasco,  eh?  Say, 
you  darned  litle  apology  for  a  lady's  lover — 
what  did  you  think  you  could  do  to  Hardeman? 
It's  my  turn  now,  ain't  it?     Where's  yer  law 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  275 

now?  An'  saj — where's  yer  dear,  beloved  duty, 
that  you  spell  with  capitals?  Duty?  Gosh,  you 
weazened  pup,  don't  you  wish  now  you'd  killed 
me  when  you  had  the  chance?     Duty!     Hell!" 

The  Sheriff  arose  on  his  arm,  and  Hardeman 
kicked  him  violently  backward. 

"  Now,  Sheriff,  say  yer  prayers,"  he  com- 
manded. "  You  first,  then  that  Indian."  As  he 
spoke  he  lowered  the  Colt  in  both  hands  till  the 
muzzle  rested  a  foot  from  the  other's  head. 

The  Sheriff's  mind  was  clearing  from  its  late 
dizziness;  his  brain  was  resuming  its  usual, 
lightning-swift  activity.  He  observed  that 
Talabam  was  recovering;  and  realized  that,  with 
another  few  seconds  saved,  death  might  even  yet 
be  averted. 

"  I've  this  to  say,"  he  drawled  slowly,  faintly, 
but  without  quiver  in  his  voice,  "  Hardeman,  you 
appear  to  win.  But  when  that  gun  of  yours 
barks  there  will  be  twenty  of  Talabam's  braves 
in  this  cave.  They  are  less  than  a  hundred  feet 
back  on  the  trail." 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  knew  he  held  no  card 
worth  mentioning,  so  he  bluffed;  but  he  did 
it  so  well  that  Hardeman  for  a  second  hesitated 
uncertainly.  Then,  with  an  oath,  he  shoved  his 
gun  into  the  Sheriff's  face  and  pulled  trigger. 
The  hammer  of  the  Colt  smashed  down,  but 
there  was  no  response.     Again  he  pulled,  and 


276  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

again.  The  weapon  responded  not.  Instantly 
he  realized  for  the  first  time  that  it  was  empty, 
and  in  the  same  second  the  Sheriff  saw  it,  and 
his  hand  descended  to  his  own  weapon  and  it 
flew  from  its  holster.  But  Hardeman  had 
whirled  and  was  lumbering  away  down  the  soggy 
trail,  before  the  Sheriff  in  his  weakened  condi- 
tion could  rise  and  follow.  The  latter  staggered 
outside  and  down  the  trail  in  pursuit,  but  the 
wild  night  and  the  blackness  prevented  a  sight 
of  the  fugitive.  He  heard  the  faint  thudding 
of  the  outlaw's  feet  as  he  sped  clumsily  along 
with  bound  hands  grasping  both  his  weapon 
and  his  cartridge  belt ;  then  suddenly  there  arose 
a  hoarse  cry  and  a  rumble.  The  earth  of  the 
trail  shook,  and  the  rocks  ahead  began  to  roll 
down  from  the  higher  levels  above.  The  Sheriff 
of  Wasco  halted,  and  stooping  to  his  knees, 
listened.  He  could  hear  a  man's  struggles  in 
the  down-rushing  of  wet  and  weakened  earth 
across  the  trail.  There  was  a  hoarse,  frightened 
curse  in  Hardeman's  voice,  and  then  the  human 
words  were  lost  in  the  steady  rolling  and  grum- 
bling of  the  earth  as  it  separated  from  the  granite 
backing  and  went  slowly  downward  into  the 
ravine  or  the  river  below. 

Awe-stricken  by  the  sudden  strange  chance,  the 
Sheriff  hastily  made  his  way  back  up  the  trail 
to  Talabam,  whom  he  found  rapidly  recovering. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  277 

A  few  words  acquainted  the  chief  with  the  nar- 
rowness of  their  escape  and  the  unlooked  for 
turn  of  events  in  their  favor. 

"  He  nearly  finished  us  both,  Bam.  If  only 
that  shooting  iron  of  his  had  been  loaded — " 
The  Sheriff  shook  his  head  solemnly.  ''  It  was 
no  foresight  of  mine  that  it  wasn't.  I  knew 
better  too,  an'  'twould  have  served  me  sorter 
right  to  have  to  cash  in  my  checks  for  not  re- 
membering the  rascal  I  was  dealin'  with.  Guess 
it  must  have  been  you  who  unloaded  his  gun, 
Talabam. 

A  smile  of  ready  but  suppressed  pride  crossed 
the  Indian's  face  as  he  met  the  Sheriff's  inquir- 
ing  look. 

'^  The  Yakima  knew  that  Wasco  and  the  bad 
man  were  at  war.  The  Yakima  is  Wasco's 
friend;  so  he  emptied  the  blue  iron." 

"  You  did !  Talabam,  you're  a  big  chief. 
Darn  you  Bam,  darn  you,  you  saved  my  life," 
said  the  Sheriff  with  deep  feeling.  But  Talabam 
only  remarked  ^'  Huh ! "  shortly  and  expres- 
sively; and  the  two  understood  one  another 
thoroughly. 

"  The  bad  man's  gone ;  and  he's  killed,"  said 
the  Sheriff,  as  they  peered  over  the  edge  of  the 
precipice. 

^^  It's  only  two  hundred  feet,  Wasco;  the  earth 
moved  easily.    Hardeman  lives  perhaps,  and  he 


278  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

has  the  blue  iron;  it  will  not  be  empty  long, 
for  he  has  the  belt  and  the  cartridges." 

''  Damn !  "  said  the  Sheriff,  looking  helplessly 
at  his  companion,  his  face  dark  with  conviction 
and  chagrin. 

As  they  stood  there  angrily  silent  there  came 
a  momentary  lull  in  the  wind,  and  they  heard 
a  curious  sound  rise  from  below.  It  was 
a  hoarse  voice,  full  of  venom  and  hatred. 
^'  Sheriff,''  it  cried,  "  you  won  the  last  hand.  I 
win  the  next.  Your  girl  's  at  Jones' — is  she? 
Thanks  for  your  damned  information." 

The  Sheriff  wath  a  furious  oath  leaned  far 
out  over  the  precipice,  but  the  chief  jerked  him 
backward,  and  with  one  sweep  of  his  arm 
knocked  the  illuminating  embers  into  space. 
"  The  evil  spirit  not  sleep  all  the  time  we  think, 
Wasco.  Now  perhaps  he  shoot,"  he  grunted 
fiercely. 

"  She's  mine  now,  Sheriff,"  came  the  voice 
from  below  again,  "damn  you!  think  of  the 
love  I'll  make." 

"  We're  prisoners,"  cried  the  Sheriff  furiously, 
glancing  down  at  the  abyss  below  him,  "  and 
that  devil  is  loose  out  there  to  do  as  he  pleases. 
He'll  cut  the  rope  that  binds  him  on  the  edge  of 
some  rock,  and  then " 

"  It  was  the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit.  Wasco 
could  not  stay  the  rain  or  the  storm;  but  my 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  279 

brother  will  fight  the  bad  man  yet.  This  is  a 
Yakima  cave — a  warrior's  cave.  It  has  two 
trails.  One  to  come  and  one  to  go.  Listen," 
said  the  chief,  as  they  started  along  a  passage 
leading  from  the  back  of  the  cave  through  the 
mountain  side.  "  Listen,  Wasco,  Talabam  goes 
to  tell  Chidwan  to  catch  the  bad  man  if  he  goes 
to  the  setting  sun,  and  then  Talabam  goes  to  tell 
Chief  Butts.  Wasco  will  take  the  back  trail 
down  to  the  valley,  and  he  will  be  with  the  white 
maiden  before  the  bad  man.  If  Wasco  fights 
may  the  Great  Spirit  be  with  him  I " 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

A    MIDNIGHT   VISIT. 

Directly  the  Sheriff  had  left  her  in  Hilltown, 
Myra  sped  in  haste  to  her  own  room,  womanlike 
flashing  a  keen  glance  in  her  mirror  to  see 
w^hether  she  had  been  in  his  eyes  all  that  she 
wished.  But  she  saw  less  of  herself  than  of  his 
strong,  romantic  presence,  bidding  her  impas- 
sioned farewell.  She  held  her  palms  to  her  hot 
cheeks,  half  ashamed. 

"  I've  been  unmaidenly,  maybe — but  I  don't 
care.  I  don't  care.  I  simply  had  to  find  out," 
she  breathed  defiantly.  Stepping  hurriedly  and 
noiselessly  to  the  window,  she  watched  him  as  he 
passed  round  the  bend  and  out  of  sight,  his  cap 
set  backward,  his  rifie  tucked  in  the  crook  of  his 
arm  in  careless  security,  every  stride  of  his  long 
legs  bespeaking  fearlessness  and  honesty  and 
unshakable  confidence  in  himself. 

"  Hardeman,  indeed ! ''  she  whispered  in  deep 
self-contempt.  "  How  could  I  have  been  so  silly? 
And  now  he's  off  with  that  precious  money  no- 
tion in  his  head;  and  it's  so  unnecessary,"  she 

280 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  281 

sighed.  "  Well,  I  can-t  do  anything?  I've  done 
too  much  as  it  is.  He  thinks  it's  his  duty  to 
make  his  fortune.  And  I'm  to  remember,  please, 
that  he's  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco."  A  dreamy 
smile,  half  pride,  lit  up  her  blue  eyes  "  Gra- 
cious, he's  lovely  when  he's  stubborn.  But  I 
shouldn't  think  of  interfering  with  him." 

Two  days  later,  when  he  was  already  many 
miles  advanced  on  his  journey,  she  and  hep 
father,  that  corpulent  millionaire,  set  out  on 
horseback  together  for  the  mines. 

Mr.  Thorn  was  happy  but  anxious,  remember- 
ing what  the  Sheriff  had  said.  More  than  ever 
he  was  ready  to  play  the  obedient  parent  to  this 
beautiful  recovered  daughter  of  his.  He  would 
have  loved  her  more  than  ever  perhaps,  only 
that  he  had  long  reached  the  limit  of  his  powers 
of  devotion.  Observing  that  Myra  was  thought- 
ful, his  mind  reverted  to  "  that  fellow  from 
Wasco,"  with  redoubled  suspicion.  Mr.  Thorn 
had  repeatedly  expressed  his  good  opinion  of 
the  Sheriff,  but  to  all  his  remarks  Myra  had 
said  very  little.  This  was  unusual  enough  to 
attract  the  shrewd  old  gentleman's  atten- 
tion. 

"  That  Sheriff  now — he  didn't  mention  to  you 
where  he  was  going,  I'll  bet.  He's  a  clam  when 
it  comes  to  talking  about  his  own  business," 
ventured  Mr.  Thorn  as  they  galloped  along. 


282  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

"  He  told  me  he  was  going  to  make  his  for- 
tune,'' Myra  called  back. 

^'  Um !  Given  up  the  idea  of  getting  Harde- 
man, has  he?  Well,  it's  a  dangerous  job  rather. 
I  don't  blame  him." 

"  Oh,  no,"  Myra  corrected  sweetly,  ''  he  hasn't 
given  up  the  idea  of  getting  Hardeman.  That's 
a  big  mistake  of  yours,  daddy." 

^'H'min!''  Mr.  Thorn's  exclamation  was  now 
dry  and  emphatic.  ''  Funny  thing  he  should  talk 
to  you  about  making  his  fortune.  What  d'you 
suppose  he  means  by  it?" 

Myra's  pretty  mouth  curled  upward  slightly 
at  the  corners.  "  Well  it  struck  me,  father,  he 
meant  he  was  going  to  be  a  corpulent  million- 
aire," she  said  innocently. 

"  He  did,  the  impudent  cuss,"  snorted  her 
father.  '^  W^hy  didn't  he  mention  it  to  me,  then? 
I  might  have  put  him  in  the  way  of  something, 
just  to  get  even  with  him  for  bringing  my 
daughter  back." 

"'  Oh,  I  don't  think  he's  that  kind  exactly — 
the  kind  you  could  pay  for  services  rendered  to 
a  lady,"  said  Myra.  "  Anyway  you  couldn't  half 
satisfy  him.  He's  going  to  the  Klondike  to  bring 
back  a  mountain  or  two,  he  said.  His  ideas  are 
quite  large,  you  see." 

"  Quite  modern,  I  should  say,"  Mr.  Thorn  be- 
gan, but  his  daughter,  flicking  her  horse  gaily, 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  283 

had  already  bolted  far  ahead.  ''  Kace  me  to 
Craddock's,"  she  called  back  laughing,  '"  aud 
don't  worry  about  the  Sheriff.  He  isn't  worry- 
ing any  over  you."  So  Mr.  Thorn  finished  his 
remarks  to  the  landscape.  "  Mountain  h'mm ! 
Well,  he'll  get  it,  I  guess.  Hope  he  hasn't  got 
his  eye  on  anything  belonging  to  me,  but  I  ain't 
so  sure  of  it.  He's  the  kind  that  gets  what  he 
goes  after.  And  that's  the  kind  I  like,  by 
thunder!  " 

By  evening  they  had  completed  the  first  half 
of  the  journey.  At  night  they  slept  in  the  log 
cabin  of  a  woodman  which  stood  in  a  lonely 
little  clearing  not  far  from  the  road.  All  about 
them  was  dense  forest,  and  Myra  fell  asleep 
with  the  mournful  singing  of  the  pines  in  her 
ears,  and  dreamed  that  a  desperate  battle  was 
taking  place  between  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco 
and  Hardeman,  while  she  herself  looked  on, 
utterly  helpless,  unable  to  distinguish  between 
them. 

When  the  half-dead  victor  crawled  to  her  feet, 
entreating  her  kindness,  her  heart  gave  a  great 
leap  of  terror.  She  knew  not  which  of  them  he 
was,  nor  which  was  the  dead  man.  Trembling 
with  fear  she  awoke,  and  slipping  over  to  her  win- 
dow looked  out.  The  pines  were  cutting  a  jagged 
circle  in  the  sky,  all  sown  with  the  glittering 
star-dust   of  a   million   worlds.     The  haunting 


284  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

tree-music  oppressed  her  with  dread.  Was  her 
dream  mere  foolishness,  or  was  it  a  portent  of 
disaster? 

Her  father  came  to  her  relief.  All  uncon- 
sciously his  snores  rose  on  the  midnight,  gentle 
but  determined,  for  he  was  weary,  poor  man. 
Myra's  fears  fled.  Smiling,  she  looked  at  the 
starry  circle  above  the  pines,  and  her  lips  moved : 
"  God  keep  him — the  right  one — from  peril," 
she  breathed,  and  feeling  guilty  but  happy  went 
back  into  bed  and  slept  until  morning. 

The  Sheriff  still  dwelt  in  Mr.  Thorn's  mind 
that  second  day  as  he  had  on  the  first.  They 
were  drawing  near  to  the  mine  country  now,  and 
knowing  the  Sheriff's  dislike  of  the  locality  and 
his  reasons  for  it,  Mr.  Thorn  was  the  prey  of  a 
lively  anxiety  to  know  how  the  young  man's 
quest  was  faring.  Was  it  true  that  Hardeman 
was  in  the  mines — the  very  mines  of  which  he 
was  the  chief  owner?  The  old  man  secretly  re- 
sented it  as  a  ^^  fresh  "  notion  of  the  Wasco 
man's,  but  the  question  was  certainly  engrossing, 
and  raised  in  him  the  earnest  desire  to  be  present 
should  the  Sheriff  and  his  quarry  come  face  to 
face.  But  he  did  not  desire  that  his  daughter 
Myra  should  be  present ;  and  here  in  the  benevo- 
lent darkness  of  his  mind  he  thought  he  foresaw 
difficulty. 

Towards  sunset  they  arrived  at  Jones'  cabin. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  285 

This  had  always  been  their  stopping-place.  The 
mines  were  but  ten  miles  beyond,  and  they  usu- 
ally rode  out  to  them  in  the  morning  after  break- 
fast. Those  ten  miles  were  the  loveliest  part  of 
the  whole  journey  in  Myra's  opinion. 

The  log  cabin  was  not  dissimilar  to  the  one 
in  which  they  had  passed  the  previous  night. 
It  was  larger  and  more  generally  pretentious, 
and  the  forests  around  had  grown  thinner  with 
the  approach  of  the  coast  line.  Jones,  the 
cabin's  present  owner,  was  a  woodman;  but  it 
had  been  owned  and  built  in  the  first  place  by 
a  rich  San  Franc^'scan,  vdio  had  come  up  into  the 
woods  and  mountains  of  the  Olympics  in  search 
of  health.  The  cabin  bore  tokens  of  its  first 
ownership  in  the  neglected  rose-bushes  and  other 
garden  shrubs,  now  rapidly  lapsing  back  to 
primitive  wildness.  The  clearing  was  grown 
high  with  grass  and  tiny  tree  saplings,  all  in  a 
hopeless,  luxuriant  tangle,  except  where  a  well- 
laid  corduroy  path  led  from  the  cabin  door 
through  the  woods  to  the  trail  by  which  the  trav- 
elers had  come. 

One  might  stand  at  the  door  and  look  across 
the  clearing  at  the  scattered  ranks  of  dusky  tree 
forms,  following  them  as  they  receded  and  grew 
dimmer  and  dimmer  till  they  merged  with  the 
vast  army  of  their  brethren.  Here  Myra  stood 
watching  the  stormy  sunset,  and  thinking — what 


286  TEE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

unknown  thoughts? — when  her  father  joined  her, 
and  decided  it  was  a  good  moment  to  try  his 
diplomacy. 

"  What  a  truly  lovely  spot  this  is,  daughter. 
An  ideal  corner  to  rest  in  after  our  long  journey, 
isn't  it?" 

'^  Lovely,"  answered  his  daughter,  ^^  provided 
you  won't  snore  to-night,  father !  "  and  she  smiled 
on  him. 

^'  Shucks !  All  a  dream  of  yours,  ma'am.  I 
never  snore,"  and  he  winked  atrociously.  "  I'm 
afraid  you  must  be  dreadfully  tired  to-night,  my 
dear." 

^^  Oh,  not  particularly.  I've  been  here  before 
you  know,"  said  Myra. 

"  You  look  utterly  exhausted.  I  almost  blame 
myself  for  letting  you  come  so  far.  Don't  know 
Tv'hatever  I  should  do  if  you  got  down  sick, 
Myra,"  he  pursued  solicitously.  "  Tell  you  what 
now — I've  just  thought  of  this  idea  this  minute. 
Suppose  you  stay  here  to-morrow  and  rest  up 
while  I  go  on  and  finish  up  this  business.  I'll 
be  back  by  noon,  and  I'll  feel  ever  so  much  easier 
about  you.    How's  that?  " 

He  put  the  finishing  query  with  a  faltering 
accent,  for  his  daughter's  eyes  were  fixing  him  in 
frank  surprise.  "  Stay  here? "  she  repeated 
blankly,  and  then  his  look  of  duplicity  turned 
on  the  light  somewhere  in  her  brain,  and  to  his 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  287 

huge  concern,  she  broke  forth  into  merry,  scepti- 
cal laughter. 

"  You  dear  storv-telling  old  bungler,"  she  cried 
mirthfully,  shaking  her  finger  at  him.  ^'  Stand 
right  there  and  tell  me  the  truth,  sir — for  I 
know  it.-' 

''  You  know ?  " 

"Yes,  I  know.  This  is  all  the  Sheriff  of 
Wasco's  doing,  not  yours.  Goodness,  he's  foxy," 
said  Myra,  suddenly  remembering  how  he  had 
let  her  think  herself  the  victor  in  this  very  mat- 
ter. 

"So  he  told  you,  eh?  Told  me  he  didn't 
want  you  to  know,"  and  Mr.  Thorn  felt  very 
much  relieved.  "  Don't  be  alarmed,  daughter,  I 
hardly  think  he'll  find  Hardeman  down  there. 
It's  just  a  notion  of  his,  you  know." 

"  Hardeman?  "  gasped  Myra.  "  In  the  mines? 
No,  no,  he  didn't  tell  me  that.  And  the  Sheriff — ■ 
is  he  there,  too?  " 

Perceiving  that,  diplomatically,  he  had  made 
a  mistake,  Mr.  Thorn  at  once  made  full  confes- 
sion of  the  duplicit  Sheriff's  intentions.  Ten 
chances  to  one  it  was  all  an  old  fool  notion,  this 
of  Hardeman  being  in  the  mines.  But  the 
Sheriff  had  meant  well;  and,  being  the  smooth 
but  iron  man  he  was,  he  had  bound  her  father  to 
keep  her  away  from  all  chance  of  alarm  and  un- 
pleasantness. 


288  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

Mjra  listened,  tapping  her  foot  slightly,  the 
first  spark  of  indignation  in  her  blue  eyes  giv- 
ing way  to  a  half  smile  that  looked  like  a  gleam 
from  the  cloudy  sunset. 

"  He's  very  kind  and  so  are  you,  daddy. 
You've  both  treated  me  exactly  as  if  I  was  a 
baby,  and  I  ought  to  be  thankful,"  she  said  with 
an  unthankful  rise  of  her  pretty  chin.  "•  You've 
been  so  awfully  nice  I'm  going  to  give  you  the 
least  little  bit  of  advice:  Don't  talk  about  the 
Sheriff's  '  old  fool '  notions  just  yet.  If  you 
knew  him  as  well  as  I  do  you'd  wait  to  see  how 
they  turn  out  first." 

It  was  a  piece  of  advice  that  left  her  father 
ruminating  suspiciously  for  the  rest  of  the  even- 
ing. 

At  nightfall  a  tremendous  storm  which  had 
been  gathering  all  evening  burst  not  far  from 
them.  Rain  descended  in  sheets;  and  the  pines 
roared  and  swayed  and  lashed  themselves  to  fury 
under  the  whipping  of  the  winds.  The  lighb- 
ning  flashes  revealed  the  splendid  storm  spectacle 
to  the  watchers  in  the  cabin,  but  the  crackling 
thunder  made  speech  impossible.  They  watched 
in  silence,  awed  by  the  greatness  of  it.  After 
an  hour  or  two  its  worst  fury  abated,  and  the 
forest  lay  fresh  and  wet  under  a  clearing  sky, 
hushing  itself  to  sleep  with  low  mutterings  of 
spent  passion. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  289 

Sleep  did  not  visit  Myra's  eyelids  for  a  long 
time  that  night.  Alternately  confident  and 
afraid  she  lay  watching  the  fitful  moonbeams 
struggling  through  her  small  window,  realizing 
all  too  clearly  what  her  father's  news  meant. 
What  fearful  thing  might  not  be  happening  even 
now?  She  did  not  fear  for  herself, — oh  no. 
With  her  smooth  iron  man  only  ten  miles  away 
she  knew  there  was  no  need.  But  what  of  him? 
How  was  he  faring  on  this  deadly  task  he  had 
set  himself? 

She  did  sleep  at  last;  but  some  time  in  the 
depth  of  night  she  was  suddenly  awakened  by 
quick  footsteps  on  the  log  path  approaching 
the  house.  No  other  sound  followed  for  a  long 
time,  though  she  listened  with  painful  intentness, 
bravely  fighting  off  the  fear  of  something  un- 
known. At  last  she  caught  the  sound  of  men's 
voices,  piched  in  a  low  and  careful  key.  Her 
fears  of  brewing  mischief  rose  to  the  highest 
pitch.  Tremblingly  she  rose,  groped  about  for 
her  dress  and  put  it  on  after  a  fashion.  Jones 
must  be  awakened  and  warned.  But  just  at 
that  instant  she  distinguished  the  voice  of  Jones 
himself,  and  his  carefully  spoken  words  left  her 
petrified  with  surprise  and  relief. 

"  All  right,  Sheriff.  'Course  you  please  yer- 
«elf  about  it.  But  I'd  keep  watch  from  the  in- 
side if  it  was  me."    To  this  there  followed  a  low 


290  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

word  of  dissent,  and  then  the  closing  of  a  win- 
dow. 

But  the  sound  of  that  other  voice  had  turned 
Mjra's  whole  body  to  fever  heat.  Helplessly 
she  sank  down  on  the  edge  of  her  bed.  The 
Sheriff!  what  was  he  doing  here?  What  could 
have  happened  to  send  him  here  at  this  hour? 
Then  despite  all  her  consternation  a  smile  forced 
its  way  to  her  trembling  lips,  and  she  hid  her 
face  among  the  pillows.  No  matter  why  or  how 
— so  he  was  here. 

Scaring  up  courage  she  rose  swiftly  and  looked 
at  her  moonlit  image  in  the  little  mirror,  busily 
tucking  in  her  nightgown  which  was  sticking 
out  scarecrow  fashion  all  round  her  collar. 
Then  she  sat  down  again  and  helplessly  regarded 
the  window. 

"  I'll  go  right  to  sleep  and  forget  all  about 
him;  that's  the  proper  course,''  she  declared. 
"  Oh,  pshaw — nobody  takes  the  proper  course 
under  such  circumstances  as  these."  Tiptoeing 
over  she  raised  the  merest  corner  of  the  curtain, 
but  dropped  it  again  with  a  gasp  and  fled  back- 
ward to  the  bed,  where  she  lay  curled  in  a  heap, 
laughing  and  blushing  gloriously  to  her  very 
finger-tips.  She  had  seen  the  Sheriff  out  there, 
a  few  feet  off,  his  eyes  thoughtfully  directed  to- 
ward her  window;  and  he  had  seen  her,  which 
was  infinitely  worse. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  291 

An  interval  ensued.  Then  a  wet  white  rose 
from  the  garden  flew  through  the  upper  part  of 
the  window,  and  struck  the  floor  with  a  thud 
of  appeal. 

"  Perfectly  audacious,"  breathed  Myra,quickly 
appropriating  it.  ''  I  don't  approve  of  such 
carryings-on,  and  Til  certainly  tell  him  so  to- 
morrow." 

Another  rose — this  time  with  a  prayer 
wrapped  round  the  stalk :  "  Please  come  to  the 
window." 

"No,  sir;  it's  after  midnight,"  scribbled  Myra 
severely.  She  threw  the  rose  back  and  waited 
hopefully. 

Back  it  came.  "  Important.  Do  come,  please. 
Isl.  B.  It  has  been  midnight  to  me  for  three 
daysJ^ 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  breathed  the  g^'rl,  her  eyes 
gleaming.  "  Good  heavens,  just  supposing  father 
happened  to  be  awake."  Then  she  pursed  her 
lips  in  doubt  over  the  "  important,"  and  going 
very  lightly  to  the  window  opened  it  softly  as 
the  disturber  w^as  bending  down  to  pluck  more, 
roses  by  which  to  dispatch  further  entreaties. 
Three  of  his  long  steps  brought  him  to  her ;  she 
let  him  take  her  hand  through  the  window  as 
she  whispered  with  smiling  severity:  "Well, 
sir,  what  do  you  want?  " 

His  answer  w^as  in  his  face,  so  close  to  hers,  and 


292  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

dimly  illumined  by  moonlight.  Her  hand  flut- 
tered slightly  in  his  strong,  close  clasp. 

"  I  want  to  see  you — what  else?"  he  laughed 
in  a  low,  thick,  passionate  whisper.  ^^  There  are 
other  things,  maybe;  but  they'd  have  kept.  To 
see  you,  that's  the  biggest  want  of  my  life." 

"  Oh,  but  you  should  have  waited,"  she  saidi 
breathlessly.  She  wished  to  chide  him  a  little,! 
but  her  face  had  somehow  caught  the  reflection! 
of  his,  and  for  one  sweet,  throbbing  minute  they 
looked  silently  at  each  other,  Myra's  blue  eyesi 
half  afraid,  yet  wholly  glad  and  tender."  You 
l'7ioto  you  ought  to  have  waited,  Sheriff." 

"  Yes-,  I  ought,  but  I  couldn't.  Not  after  I 
caught  sight  of  you,  you  know.  Three  days,  and' 
then  a  chance  like  this!  There's  a  spice  of 
Hardeman  in  me;  you  were  dead  right  abouti 
that."  The  Sheriff  laughed  and  relinquished  his 
grasp  of  her  hand,  his  eyes  brimming  with  other 
and  violently  restrained  intents.  "  You'll  forgive 
me  just  this  once?  " 

"  I'll  wait  and  see  if  you  ever  do  it  again  be- 
fore I  promise,"  said  Myra,  folding  her  arms  on 
the  window-sill  and  looking  provokingly  lovely 
and  reproving.  "  Now  about  those  other  things 
— the  important  ones?  " 

This  broke  the  spell  for  a  moment. 

*'  Which  things?  "  he  inquired  with  innocence, 
but  business  like. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  293 

"  Don't  pretend.  The  things  about  Hardeman, 
of  course,"  she  said  severely,  '^  I  got  it  all  out 
of  father  last  night." 

"  Pshaw,  your  father's  no  disciplinarian.  He 
ought  to  keep  you  in  better  order,"  he  grinned- 
"  Well,  if  you  know,  there  ain't  anything  for 
me  to  tell." 

'^  Yes,  there  is.  Sheriff  what  are  you  doing 
here,  at  this  hour  of  the  night?  Don't  make  a 
baby  of  me,"  she  pleaded  eagerly. 

But  he  would  not  tell  her  the  whole  story,  be- 
cause the  reserve  which  men  of  deeds  feel  in  talk- 
ing of  their  purposes  was  strong  in  him,  at  least 
until  his  purpose  should  be  accomplished.  He 
was  on  the  trail  of  that  rascal  Hardeman  finally, 
he  said.  This,  joined  to  some  slight  anxiety  on 
her  account,  had  led  him  to  the  cabin,  where  he 
meant  to  keep  watch  until  morning,  Y\hen  it 
was  his  urgent  desire  that  she  and  her  father 
would  abandon  their  proposed  stay  in  the  neigh- 
borhood and  go  at  once  under  his  escort  back 
to  Hilltown.  She  was  not  to  feel  alarmed  of 
course.  But  his  plan  was  best,  beyond  question. 
Let  her  put  herself  implicitly  under  his  direction 
and  he  would  guarantee  that  no  harm  would 
come  to  her. 

For  the  moment  his  eyes  had  grown  keen  and 
hard.  Little  of  him  was  lover  now.  He  was 
the    indomitable    Sheriff,    giving    his    fighting 


294  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

orders,  and  not  to  be  thwarted  even  by  so  im- 
portant a  young  lady  as  Myra  Thorn. 

Recognizing  this,  Myra's  soul  at  once  fell  down 
in  secret  worship  before  him. 

'^  But  suppose/'  she  said,  a  little  breathlessly, 
"  suppose  he  comes  to-night !  You  have  no  shel- 
ter." 

A  laugh  like  a  low  grunt  issued  from  the 
Sheriff's  throat.  "Wish  he  ivould,  but  I  guess 
there's  no  such  luck,"  and  Myra  suddenly  under- 
stood much  she  had  heard  concerning  him,  as 
well  as  her  own  utter  and  adoring  absence  of 
all  fears  on  his  account. 

"  I'll  be  ready  and  I'll  have  father  ready,  cer- 
tainly," she  said  softly,  raising  her  hands  to 
draw  down  the  window  " — good-night." 

But  in  a  flash  the  grim  warrior  was  merged 
into  the  grim  ardent  lover.  Taking  advantage 
of  her  attitude  his  long  arm  shot  out  swiftly  and 
detained  her,  and  in  fiery  whispers  he  was  en- 
treating : 

"Don't  go;  don't  punish  me  like  that.  I've 
been  wasting  time  talking.  You  think  for  one 
minute,  I'd  get  you  out  here  to  discuss  that 
dog  Hardeman  and  his  ways?  Be  hanged  to 
him! " 

The  passionate  yet  gentle  force  of  his  arm 
took  Myra's  strength  from  her.  Feebly  protest- 
ing "  to-morrow — to-morrow,"  she  strove  to  loose 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  295 

it,  but  could  not  fight  her  love  of  this  stern 
tempest  of  a  man,  the  bursting  flood  of  whose 
passion  was  a  torrent. 

"To-morrow  to  the  dickens!  Now!^^  he 
breathed  in  soft  triumph.  '^  You  see,  I  love  you, 
and  I've  found  that  fortune.  Remember  what 
jou  said  about  that?" 

''  No,  I  cared  nothing  for  your  fortune."  she 
denied,  flashing  out  brilliantly  at  him. 

''  Ah,  but  I  did.  It  had  to  be  a  part  of  me. 
Oh,  I  love  you — /  love  you!  '■  and  then,  save  for  a 
long  sigh  of  happiness,  he  became  as  silent  as 
the  trees  of  the  forest. 

"  Will  you  have  me,  Myra,  for  better  or 
worse? "  he  demanded  presently  in  a  w^hisper 
of  delight. 

"  I  certainly  won't  promise  you  at  any  such 
unearthly  hour  as  this,"  said  his  captive,  her 
lips  tingling  from  furious  impact,  yet  smiling 
adorably  on  him.  "  If  you  were  any  one  in  the 
world  but  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco,  I'd  call  father," 
she  whispered.  "  But  oh,  being  you,  I  do  love 
you." 

Struggling  for  speech  and  breath,  she  resumed 
after  an  interval,  her  hair  fallen  across  his  arms, 
her  eyes  bright  and  dewy :  "  No,  sir, — not  once 
again.  Let  me  go.  Yes,  to-morrow,  perhaps. 
What  hours  they  do  choose  in  Wasco  for  calling 
on  a  lady,"  and  with  her  hand  against  his  eager 


296  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

persuasive  lips  she  fled  backward  through  the 
window,  then  drew  it  down.  So,  shaking  his 
head  disapprovingly,  he  picked  up  his  rifle  and 
betook  himself  to  watch  for  a  certain  Mr.  Harde- 
man, outlaw  and  escaped  prisoner  of  his,  who  he 
hoped  might  incautiously  w\^nder  into  that  vi- 
cinity. 

His  vigil,  however,  went  without  reward,  so 
far  as  Hardeman  was  concerned. 

But  some  hours  later,  when  the  sky  overhang- 
ing the  great  American  continent  to  the  east- 
ward w^as  turning  pink  and  gold  behind  the 
jagged  pine  crests,  Mr.  Thorn,  being  an  early 
riser,  made  a  discovery,  and  the  result  of  it  sent 
him  full  of  important  news  to  his  daughter's 
door. 

^*  Myra,  my  dear,  you'll  have  to  hurry.  I  guess 
you  were  right  last  night — er,  about  the  Sheriff. 
He's  here,  and  he's  seen  Hardeman " 

"Gracious!  you  don't  say  so.  The  Sheriff?" 
said  a  queer  voice  within. 

"  Fact.  He  got  the  villain  right  in  my  mines 
as  he  expected.  But  there  was  a  bad  mishap,  a 
landslide  on  Flower  Butte,  and  in  the  mix-up 
Hardeman  was  separated  and  got  off — with- 
out a  scratch  too,  I  guess.  Poor  Sheriff  feels 
bad  over  it;  but  he'll  get  him  again  soon,  and 
I'd  certainly  hate  to  be  that  outlaw.  Meantime 
he  wants  to  get  us  straight  back  to  Hilltow^n  out 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  297 

of  the  mess* — and  I  think,  daughter,  we'd  better 
pull  up  stakes  right  after  breakfast,  and  go." 

"  Good  Heavens,  a  landslide ;  and  he  never 
once — .  Oh  yes,  I'm  coming.  I've  simply  got 
to  make  myself  a  bit  presentable  on  Mr.  Jones' 
account,  but  I'll  be  right  out,  daddy." 

"  Landslide !  I  guess  there  were  two  of  them," 
she  whispered,  as  she  smoothed  out  the  hair 
which  the  Sheriff's  hand  had  smoothed.  ^'  How 
strong  he  is.  And  oh — "  here  she  stretched 
her  arms  deliciously,  ^'  how  very,  very  happy  I 
am.  Thank  God,"  and  her  lips  trembled,  "  his 
first  landslide  didn't  seem  to  have  affected  him 
very  seriously." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  cavalcade  of  three 
bade  farewell  to  their  host  of  the  night  and  sped 
rapidly  away,  the  Sheriff  on  the  further  side  of 
Myra,  riding  Jones'  borrowed  horse.  They 
traveled  fast,  for  he  was  anxious  to  make  the 
journey  that  same  day.  Several  times  during 
the  morning  Myra  wondered  whether  she  really 
knew  her  lover.  Now  that  he  was  on  the  trail, 
bent  on  the  peculiar  business  she  knew  of,  the 
veil  of  his  reserve  was  perfect.  He  was  all 
Sheriff,  this  handsome,  easy  rider,  who  listened 
to  her  father's  gossip  with  almost  lazy  gentleness, 
his  hard  swift  glances  meantime  sweeping  every 
spot  of  concealment  on  the  hillside.  To  herself 
he    accorded    the    unimpeachable    courtesy    he 


298  TEE  SEERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

would  have  given  any  lady  in  his  charge,  while 
all  the  time  his  twelve-hour-old  kisses  burned  her 
memory,  and  only  an  occasional  volcanic  smolder 
in  his  gray-blue  eyes  as  they  rested  on  her  be- 
trayed that  he  too  remembered.  Often  he  rode 
ahead  to  reconnoiter  some  turn  where  the 
trail  grew  narrow  and  the  woods  approached 
too  close;  for  Hardeman  had  not  appeared,  and 
he  feared  that  the  wily  outlaw  would  double  and 
make  for  some  hidden  point  in  the  road  ahead 
of  them. 

Late  in  the  forenoon  they  descried  a  solitary 
red  man  running  swiftly  along  the  uplands  in 
their  direction.  The  surefootedness  and  agility 
of  the  antelope  were  in  his  tireless,  graceful 
leaps,  his  chest  and  head  were  bent  forward,  his 
arms  moved  but  slightly  at  his  sides  and  his  long 
bow  swung  before  his  breast.  They  watched  him 
admiringly  as  he  came  swiftly  on  to  intercept 
them. 

"  It's  Talabam,''  said  the  Sheriff,  with  a  low 
chuckle  of  satisfaction,  "  Talabam  returning 
from  Butts'  camp.  The  Chief  has  been  on  the 
run  for  hours." 

They  halted  and  greeted  the  Indian,  who  stoic- 
ally returned  their  salutations.  His  business 
was  with  the  Sheriff,  whom  he  drew  aside  for 
hasty  consultation. 

"  Away,  Wasco,"  he  said  briefly,  '"^  away  to  the 


/ 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO,  299 

camp  with  the  maiden.    The  bad  man  is  yonder, 
only  half  a  mile  above,  trailing  you." 

^'He  is— eh?"  drawled  the  Sheriff.  "And 
you,  Bammy?  you're  on  foot,  old  fellow;  how 
about  you?  " 

"  Talabam  will  run  with  the  millionaire.  The 
chiefs  legs  are  swift,  and  his  eyes  are  keen.  Go, 
Wasco,  with  the  maiden.  Talabam  is  Wasco's 
friend  and  will  keep  the  millionaire  away." 

There  was  command  in  the  chiefs  voice  and  a 
deep  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  "  Talabam  will  take 
the  old  warrior,"  he  exclaimed  hurriedly.    "  Go." 

In  this  new  order  they  dashed  along.  The 
Sheriff  and  Myra  were  soon  well  in  advance,  Mr. 
John  Thorn  suiting  his  speed  to  the  Indian,  who 
now  and  again  slackened  to  look  back  to  where 
the  outlay/  might  be,  and  incidentally  to  let  the 
two  lovers  get  farther  away. 

Talabam  and  Mr.  Thorn  talked  but  little,  for 
the  father  was  anxious  and  the  Indian  reticent. 
Occasionally  the  man  on  horseback  looked  down 
at  the  easy  running  red  man,  plumed  and  rugged, 
and  wondered  if  the  chief  were  possibly  schem- 
ing to  separate  him  from  his  daughter  and  to 
favor  the  Sheriff.  But  poor  Mr.  Thorn  could 
not  fathom  the  depths  of  the  Indian  nature.  He 
made  up  his  mind  that  if  it  was  a  scheme  on 
the  Indian's  part,  it  was  working  to  perfection. 
So  all  he  could  do  was  to  smile  to  himself  and 


300  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO, 

thank  his  stars  that  he  was  on  horseback,  and 
running  away  from  the  outlaw  as  fast  as  he 
could. 

Meanwhile  the  Sheriff,  far  ahead,  had  cast 
Hardeman  and  all  his  ways  behind  for  the  pres- 
ent, and  turned  his  thoughts  to  his  lady  and  love. 

At  a  certain  leafy  spot  where  the  boughs 
arched  above  them,  the  fire  within  him  would 
no  longer  be  restrained.  Checking  the  horses, 
with  a  low  cry  of  "  Myra,"  he  opened  his  arms, 
and  the  girl,  half  willing,  half  resisting,  had 
gone  into  them. 

"  Now  I  know  I'm  your  lover.  Last  night  I 
was  scared  it  was  a  dream  of  mine,''  he  said. 

"  You  scared ! "  she  laughed  in  tender  mock- 
ery. "  I  could  almost  feel  sorry  for  your  out- 
law, since  I  know  what  he  will  have  to  en- 
counter." 

The  Sheriff  silenced  the  flattery.  "  About 
Hardeman.  You  know  I  have  a  score  to  settle 
with  him  worse  even  than  his  trvino-  to  rob  me 
of  you,"  he  said  gravely.  And  as  they  rode  on, 
his  hand  tightly  clasping  hers,  he  told  her  as 
much  of  the  story  of  Jeff's  wife  as  a  lover  might 
tell.  "  When  I  got  up  here  near  the  camp,  and 
I  heard  about  you,  something  like  ice  struck  me 
— I  guess  now  it  was  a  premonition — and  I 
pushed  on  after  the  beast,  night  and  day,  mad  to 
get  him.    I  missed  him,  but  I  got  you.    I  guess  I 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  301 

was  in  time,  Myra,  wasn't  I?''  Earnestness 
made  the  question  scarcely  audible.  It  was  one 
which  had  been  burning  the  Sheriff's  soul  for 
days. 

"  Yes,  yes.  .  .  .  But  oh,  it  was  horrible," 
she  said  with  a  shiver  at  the  remembrance  of  that 
night  before  his  coming. 

"What!  He  didn't  dare  to  hurt  you?"  the 
muscles  of  the  Sheriff's  hands  were  like  steel 
springs,  and  warmed  by  the  very  savagery  of 
her  lover,  Myra  laughed  at  the  vanished  hor- 
ror, her  eyes  shining  on  him  through  grateful 
tears. 

"  No,  I  threw  him  off.  I  flirted  and  laughed 
at  him  ...  I  hoped  some  one  would  come. 
I  made  believe  I  liked  him,  and  so  I  kept  him 
down  somehow.  But  faugh  ...  he  kissed 
me  once." 

"  The  devil !  I'll  cut  his  lips  off :  "  growled  the 
Sheriff  fiercely. 

"  Then  you  came.  And  though  I  didn't  know 
you,  I  felt  safe,  my  Sheriff,"  she  whispered  softly, 
smoothing  him  down.  "  No,  no — Oh,  you're  too 
greedy.  I  shall  have  to  begin  and  keep  count  on 
you." 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  he  retorted,  "  Now  if  you 
won't  smile  at  me  for  the  next  five  minutes,  I'll 
relate  to  you  how  I  found  my  fortune."  But  he 
made  her  laugh  while  he  told  of  poor  Talabam's 


302  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

troubles  with  the  woman  question,  and  his  de- 
spairing generosity  with  his  river  of  gold. 

More  gravely  he  spoke  of  himself.  To  lead  a 
fearless,  dare-devil  sort  of  life,  and  to  be  known 
as  an  expert  with  his  gun,  had  pleased  him  once, 
some  time  ago.  Lately  he  had  grown  dissatisfied, 
and  thought  a  man  should  have  some  better  ac- 
count to  show  for  his  life.  Such  work  was  good 
enough  for  boys,  perhaps.  Then  he  had  met  her, 
and  fallen  in  love.  As  a  poor  Sheriff  with  little 
but  his  name  and  six  hundred  a  year,  he 
should  never  have  spoken,  how^ever.  It  might 
have  been  long  before  he  would  have  felt  at 
liberty.  Now,  through  the  red  man's  friendship, 
and  with  his  gift  as  a  starter,  he  hoped  very 
shortly  to  make  a  place  and  honor  for  himself  in 
the  world. 

So  all  afternoon  they  rode  alone  beneath  leafy 
canopies,  faithful  Talabam  keeping  well  in  the 
rear;  and  no  eyes  but  Myra's  saw  her  Sheriff  in 
his  role  of  lover,  and  no  ears  but  hers  heard  his 
ardent  wooing. 

Night  approached  and  the  camp  of  the  patrol 
became  dimly  visible  to  them.  The  Sheriff  flung 
himself  from  his  horse  and  came  and  stood  beside 
her,  his  arms  resting  on  either  side  of  her  on 
the  animal's  back.  Deep  twilight  was  on  his 
face,  and  in  his  eyes  the  yearning  of  a  strong 
man's  love. 


All  the  afternoon  they  rode  alone  beneath  the  leafy  canopies. 

Page  802 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  303 

"  I^m  going  back  on  the  trail  to-morrow,  little 
woman.  I  shan't  see  you  in  private  again  until 
— until  Fve  finished  that  business.  Give  me 
your  good-night  here."  And  taking  her  from 
her  horse  he  held  her  long  in  his  steady  arms, 
while  he  took  a  lover's  good-night  from  her  lips. 

"  For  a  day  or  two,"  he  whispered ;  and  then 
taking  the  bridles  of  the  horses,  he  led  them  into 
camp,  with  Myra  walking  beside  him,  Mr.  Thorn 
and  Talabam  coming  rapidly  in  the  rear. 

Myra  and  her  father  shortly  retired  to  the 
large  cabin,  for  they  were  to  remain  that  night 
at  the  camp.  Outside,  where  the  camp  fire 
glow^ed,  the  Sheriff  became  the  centre  of  a  good- 
natured,  admiring  crowd. 

"  Where's  the  outlaw?  "  drawled  Jenks  slyly. 
"  You  went  arter  him,  didn't  you.  Sheriff?  " 

"  Shut  up,  Jenks ;  he'll  get  the  bad  man  all 
right,"  smiled  another,  "  but  he  had  to  get  the 
lady  first,  you  know." 

"  Seems  to  me,"  mused  Butts,  "  that  it  looks 
like  a  weddin'  march,  this  here  return  to  camp. 
Talabam,  you  deep-dyed  redskin,  what  did  you 
do  to  the  old  man  to  keep  him  so  far  behind?  " 

The  Sheriff'  was  red  in  the  face,  and  chewing 
his  lip;  but  Talabam  came  to  the  rescue  and 
began  to  limp. 

"  The  Chief  of  the  Yakimas,"  he  explained, 


304  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

"  had  a  bad  leg ;  and  the  millionaire's  horse  was 
aged.'' 

They  roared.  But  the  abashed  Sheriff  stood 
his  ground.  "  You  boys  don't  want  to  get  too 
merry,"  he  said.  "  Remember  the  outlaw  is  here- 
abouts; he's  due  to  drop  around  unexpected," 
saying  which  he  made  off  for  the  kitchen  and 
the  care  of  Yang  Foo  and  Yang  Ko. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE  RECKONING. 


Late  that  night  the  patrol  captain  and  the 
Sheriff,  with  Talabam,  talked  long  and  seriously 
about  the  possibility  of  the  outlaw's  striking  in 
some  unexpected  way.  They  knew  that  revenge 
would  be  his  impelling  motive  now;  and  finally 
it  was  decided  that  the  Indian  should  betake 
himself  to  the  heights  above  and  keep  watch. 
If  he  saw  aught  of  Hardeman  skulking  in  the 
proximity  of  the  camp  he  was  to  signal  to  the 
Sheriff  and  the  guards,  who  would  remain  under 
cover. 

Morning  came  with  its  gray  haze,  and  its 
gentle  wind,  and  the  Sheriff  and  Butts,  who  had 
rested  but  little,  went  to  the  large  cabin  for  an 
early  breakfast  with  Mr.  Thorn  and  Myra.  It 
was  a  joyous  meal  to  the  girl  and  her  father; 
but  the  two  others  were  preoccupied,  and  their 
anxiety  was  but  poorly  concealed. 

Myra  was  pouring  the  Sheriff's  coffee,  when 
a  penetrating  distant  cry  came  suddenly  to  their 
ears.  It  sounded  like  the  cry  of  a  night-hawk, 
and  Mr.  Thorn  and  Myra  paid  no  heed  to  it ;  but 
the  Sheriff  and  Butts  exchanged  glances.     It 

305 


306  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

came  again,  this  time  for  all  the  world  like  the 
crj  of  a  bird  robbed  of  its  prey,  sharp  and  angry, 
but  far  off. 

The  Sheriff  knew  well  its  meaning.  It  was  the 
imitative  voice  of  the  Indian,  and  the  message  it 
conveyed  was  that  the  outlaw  was  near  and  com- 
ing nearer. 

"  Here,  Sheriff,  take  the  coffee ;  you  look  tired 
out,"  said  Myra  entreatingly. 

"  Thanks,  I  will,''  was  the  quiet  answer,  "  but 
first  I  must  step  outside.  I  forgot  to  tell  Tala- 
bam  something  about  that  horse  of  mine." 

"  That  horse !  Oh,  Sheriff,  you're  too  careful ; 
drink  a  cup  first  anyway." 

The  Sheriff  walked  towards  the  door,  shaking 
his  head  laughingly.  "  No,  thanks — I  must  be 
going.  Fm  afraid  something  may  be  wrong  with 
the  nag's  hoof,  don't  you  see?  " 

"  Oh !  you  and  your  borrowed  horse,"  retorted 
Myra,  tossing  her  head.  "  Go  along  then,  and 
let  us  see  you  when  you've  doctored  him." 

The  Sheriff  smiled  in  reply,  and  then  managed 
to  pitch  unceremoniously  into  Butts,  who  stood 
near  the  door.  As  he  grasped  the  captain  in  an 
apparent  endeavor  to  steady  himself  he  whis- 
pered :  "  Keep  them  here ;  keep  this  door  closed. 
It's  Talabam's  signal :    Hardeman's  outside !  " 

Butts  was  keenly  alive  to  the  situation.  With 
a  harsh  laugh  he  helped  the  other  to  his  feet. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  307 

"  You^re  embarrassed,  ain't  you,  Sheriff.  Take 
the  other  door,"  he  murmured  quickly.  It  was 
all  he  could  do  or  say;  the  anxiety  of  life  and 
death  had  come  so  suddenly. 

Quick  as  a  flash  the  Sheriff  of  Wasco  glided 
towards  the  small  back  door.  He  paused  momen- 
tarily and,  looking  back,  smiled  at  Myra.  ''  I'm  a 
clumsy  brute,"  he  said,  ^'  pardon  me."  Then  the 
door  closed  softly  behind  him.  Butts  turned 
coolly  and  locked  the  front  door;  then  he  stood 
by  the  one  whence  the  Sheriff  had  made  his 
exit. 

But  Myra  was  quick  of  perception  and  de- 
tected the  gravity  in  Butts'  face.  She  leaped  to 
her  feet,  and  seizing  his  arm  looked  keenly  at 
him.     '-What  is  it?    What  is  it?"  she  pleaded. 

"  Hush,  be  still,"  whispered  the  captain,  '*  If 
you  value  the  Sheriff's  life,  be  still." 

Myra  shrank  into  her  father's  arms.  "  It's 
coming,  father; — I  know  it,"  she  murmured, 
fear-stricken. 

Mr.  Thorn  stroked  her  hair  gently.  ^'  Silence, 
daughter,"  he  whispered.     ''  He's  a  brave  man." 

She  tumbled  her  head  on  his  breast  and  shud- 
dered with  the  terror  of  it.  "  He'll  be  killed," 
she  sobbed,  '^  he's  in  danger — awful  danger." 

'^  If  you  mean  the  outlaw — you're  dead  right," 
volunteered  Butts  in  an  endeavor  to  quiet  the 
girl's  fears.     "  The  Sheriff's  got  a  disagreeable 


308  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

piece  of  business  ahead,  but  lie  don't  shirk  no 
duty.'' 

He  was  interrupted.  A  low  cry  of  surprise,  of 
mingled  fright  and  fury,  came  from  the  front  of 
the  house ;  then  the  voice  of  the  Sheriff  rang  out 
quick  and  harsh. 

"  Drop  that  gun." 

The  answer  was  an  oath  and  a  shot,  and  those 
within  heard  the  impact  of  two  bodies  as  they 
came  together  with  a  fearful  crash. 

Butts  slid  out  of  the  door  and  the  night-shift 
came  tumbling  from  their  quarters  in  answer  to 
the  commotion. 

Mr.  Thorn  closed  the  door  and  facing  Myra 
held  her  away  from  it.  She  struggled  to  release 
herself,  but  her  father  conquered.  "  It's  not  fo.v 
us,"  he  insisted,  "  it's  not  for  us  to  see." 

Butts  and  the  others  beheld  two  men  in  a  fear- 
ful embrace.  Hardeman's  Colt  was  lying  on  the 
ground  near  by  and  the  Sheriff's  had  fallen  a 
few  feet  away.  He  had  evidently  lost  it  while 
disarming  the  outlaw.  On  the  Sheriff's  left  arm 
was  a  bloody  streak.  Hardeman's  shot  had 
wounded  him,  but  had  not  prevented  the  light- 
ning-like closing  in. 

A  voice  rang  out,  clear  and  melodious,  with  the 
curious  Indian  accent :  "  Fight  Wasco — fight 
like  the  grizzly  fights  the  bull-moose." 

It  was  Talabam  who,  tall  and  majestic,  entered 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  309 

the  clearing  and  instinctively  the  men  made 
room  for  him. 

The  Sheriff  of  Wasco  and  Hardeman  were 
reeling  and  straining,  the  deep  spasmodic  grunts 
and  the  heavy  breathing  telling  of  the  power  in 
the  embrace.  Suddenly  the  Sheriff  freed  him- 
self, and  as  Hardeman  rushed  head  down  to 
close  in,  he  dealt  the  outlaw  a  fearful  swing- 
ing blow  upon  the  necli  and  the  rush  was 
stopped. 

Hardeman  staggered,  then  collected  himself. 
The  sweat  was  pouring  down  his  face.  He  was 
the  color  of  leaden  paint.  His  mouth  jerked  in  a 
spasmodic  attempt  to  speak;  he  was  wild,  fur- 
ious. The  Sheriff  had  caught  him,  despite  his 
cleverness,  and  he  realized  that  the  officer  of  the 
law  was  strong,  strong  as  steel. 

Looking  the  outlaw  squarely  in  the  blood-shot 
eyes,  the  Sheriff  spoke: 

"  Shall  I  take  you,  Hardeman? — or  will  you 
fight  it  out  here  now?  " 

"  Hell,"  raged  the  other.  "  All  you  can  do  is 
to  take  the  girl — and  I  had  her  first." 

The  Sheriff's  face  blanched  at  the  insult,  then 
the  red  blood  mottled  his  cheeks.  His  chest 
heaved  with  the  effort  at  self-control.  All  eyes 
were  on  him  now. 

''  Hardeman,"  he  said  slowly,  his  lip  curling. 
"  I  was  going  to  take  you  back ;  but  now  it's 


310  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

between  us  here.  You  are  siicli  a  damned  liar, 
you're  going  to  die." 

The  next  instant  the  shock  of  Hardeman's 
flying  form  came  crashing  against  his  shoulders. 
There  was  a  twisting  and  heaving  of  bodies,  a 
momentary  silence,  and  then  Hardeman  was 
thrown  violently  backward.  On  he  came  again 
like  a  bull;  the  Sheriff's  fists  met  him  full  on  the 
neck  and  jaw,  but  he  only  shook  his  head  like  a 
terrier  and  dove  into  the  other,  grasping  him  by 
the  waist.  They  were  locked  now  for  a  moment, 
and  the  bystanders  marvelled  at  the  similarity  in 
figure  and  face  of  the  two.  The  Sheriff  was 
slightly  lighter,  and  his  face  bore  none  of  the 
innate  brutality  of  the  outlaw's;  but  all  told, 
they  were  marvelously  alike  for  two  who  were 
no  blood  kin. 

Hardeman  bore  the  other  to  the  ground  and 
for  several  minutes  they  fought  on  in  silence. 
Now  and  again  a  fierce  grunt  or  a  deep  sighing 
breath  told  of  the  strain.  Then,  with  a  sudden 
turn,  the  Sheriff  was  again  free  and  on  his  feet. 
Both  men  were  now  nearly  naked  above  the 
waist,  shirts  were  ripped  and  destroyed  in  their 
fury,  and  both  were  bloody.  The  outlaw's  face 
was  hanging  one-sided  and  his  neck  was  oozing 
blood;  the  Sheriff's  chest  was  opened  from 
shoulder  to  breast,  and  a  great  gaping  wound  ex- 
posed the  muscles  beneath,  such  had  been  the 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  311 

power  and  strength  of  Hardeman's  grip  as  it  tore 
under  his  arm. 

The  savage  glint  of  the  contestants'  eyes,  the 
heavy  breathing,  the  blood,  and  the  damage  that 
had  been  done  in  that  first  wild  attack  and  re- 
pulse, bore  witness  that  this  was  no  ring  fight 
with  seconds  and  sponges,  that  might  last  round 
after  round,  and  whose  object  was  a  knockout, 
simply.  This  was  a  fight  to  the  death.  The  last 
grapple  was  on  in  earnest.  It  was  plain  that 
victory  would  come  suddenly,  as  it  usually  does 
on  such  occasions,  and  it  would  come  to  the  man 
who  secured  the  first  great  advantage,  whose 
strength,  or  agility,  or  headwork  allowed  him  to 
first  seriously  injure  his  enemy.  When  men  fight 
to  the  death  things  are  quick,  for  the  emotionf? 
are  predominant,  and  there  are  no  rules  to 
hamper  the  fighting  fury, — the  primeval  instinct 
that  lies  hidden  in  man  underneath  all  the  re- 
finements of  all  ages,  and  which  when  fully 
roused  is  not  to  be  governed  by  any  of  the  laws  of 
civilization. 

The  Sheriff  circled  the  outlaw  and  then  rushed 
in.  But  Hardeman  fought  him  off  like  a  tiger, 
and  he  seemed  to  weaken  for  a  moment.  Harde- 
man came  on  tow^ard  him  like  a  tornado.  Sud- 
denly the  Sheriff  rallied  from  his  apparent 
weakness  and  swung  a  terrific  right  onto  the  out- 
law's jugular  as  he  side-stepped  the  latter's  rush. 


312  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

Hardeman,  great  as  lie  was,  had  met  liis  match. 
The  Sheriff  was  brainy  as  well  as  agile  and 
strong;  and  the  other  had  lacked  the  power  of 
perception  to  understand  that  he  had  not  been 
in  real  distress.  All  eyes  Avere  bent  on  the 
Sheriff  as  his  enemy  plunged  ahead  after  that 
staggering  blow,  turned,  and  came  back.  Harde- 
man was  half  dazed;  he  reeled;  and  his  giant 
arms'  swung  heavily  before  him,  but  on  he  came 
and  hurled  himself  wildly  against  his  foe.  Again 
the  sounds  of  sickening  blows  delivered  at  close 
quarters  against  moist  flesh  resounded  in  quick 
succession. 

A  sudden  thud,  and  Hardeman's  head  jerked 
viciously  sideways  as  the  Sheriff's  fist  reached  it, 
ripping  away  an  ear.  Then  Hardeman's  mouth 
closed  on  the  Sheriff's  arm,  and  the  two  fell  to 
the  earth,  locked  in  an  embrace  fearful  and 
silent. 

They  lay  still  as  statues  for  half  a  minute; 
only  the  heaving  breath,  the  trickling  blood,  the 
muscles  taut  as  steel,  proclaimed  them  living 
men.  The  onlookers  closed  in,  but  Butts  and 
Talabam  waved  them  away. 

Then  the  two  in  the  deadly  embrace  began  to 
move.  The  Sheriff's  arm  was  seen  to  slowly  en- 
circle the  outlaw's  neck.  With  a  sudden  twist 
he  brought  his  body  sidewise  to  the  left  of 
Hardeman,  and  the  arm  slid  backward  so  that 


TEE  SEERIFF  OF  WASCO.  313 

tlie  strong  fingers  reached  the  throat.  But  the 
outlaw  made  a  sudden  wrench  and  freed  himself. 
Both  the  sweating  bodies  ran  slippery  with 
blood;  the  mouths  of  both  were  agape  with  ex- 
haustion. Again  they  came  together.  Slowly 
the  Sheriff  wormed  himself  atop  of  Hardeman, 
and  the  arm  again  encircled  the  neck.  Then 
the  muscles  contracted,  and  the  body  of  Harde- 
man began  to  arch  backward.  But  fight  as  he 
might  his  enemy  was  too  lithe  to  be  shaken  off 
now.  Suddenly  wUh  a  mighty  wrench  the 
Sheriff  turned  and  liberated  his  encircling  arm 
from  the  other's  neck,  but  as  he  did  so,  he  gave 
it  a  tremendous  sidewise  pull.  The  outlaw  fell 
forward,  gasping  in  a  curious  crowing  fashion — 
his  face  blue,  his  body  quivering. 

The  men  looked  on  aghast ;  the  Indian  watched 
with  the  face  of  a  Sphinx.  This  was  the  great- 
est fight  with  nature's  weapons  that  would  ever 
be  seen  in  those  woods.  It  was  greater  than  a 
bull-moose  and  grizzly  combat. 

Hardeman  sprang  to  his  feet  gasping,  and 
lunging  caught  the  Sheriff's  legs  in  his  arms  and 
bore  him  heavily  to  earth.  There  was  a  muffled 
shout  of  dismay  from  the  men,  but  Talabam  was 
silent.  He  smiled  grimly ;  for  he  had  fought  the 
Sheriff  of  Wasco  years  ago  when  he  was  only  a 
devil  boy — and  he  knew.  With  a  hoarse  snarl 
Hardeman  flung  himself  on  the  Sheriff's  body, 


314  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

but  the  latter  had  half  turned,  and  again  his  arm, 
this  time  the  wounded  left,  encircled  the  out- 
law's neck. 

There  was  dirt  on  the  hand  now,  and  the  ooz- 
ing blood  did  not  cause  it  to  slip. 

Hardeman  gasped  once;  the  spectators  saw 
the  heaving  muscular  arm  contract  and  next  in- 
stant the  Sheriff  was  on  top.  His  right  arm  was 
under  the  outlaw's  right  shoulder  and  the  pur- 
chase was  secure.  The  left  arm  slid  around 
until  the  hand  was  on  the  front  of  the  neck, 
then  every  muscle  in  the  Sheriff's  body  tight- 
ened, his  fingers  closed,  and  that  fearful  wheez- 
ing breath  began  again. 

Half-strangled,  Hardeman  made  a  last  de- 
spairing twist;  and  once  again  the  two  stag- 
gered to  their  feet.  On  the  Sheriff's  face  was  a 
fighting  fury  that  made  him  nearly  unrecog- 
nizable. His  jaws  were  clenched.  His  lower 
teeth  were  uncovered  bv  the  drawing^  down  of 
the  muscles  of  the  neck.  His  mouth  was  devil- 
ish to  look  at.  His  eyes  were  half  closed,  his 
nose  dilated,  and  the  veins  of  his  forehead  were 
turgid.  Hardeman  was  blue  and  unsteady;  his 
breath  came  in  jerks;  he  had  been  nearly  stran- 
gled. The  onlookers  gazed  in  awe;  they  had 
seen  the  death-hold.  There  was  no  doubt  the 
Sheriff  was  winning;  they  realized  the  power 
and  the  tremendous  strength  of  the  man  now. 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  315 

Hardeman  was  trembling.  But  pulling  him- 
self suddenly  together  he  staggered  forward  to- 
ward the  awaiting  Sheriff.  He  felt  himself  go- 
ing ;  his  head  was  reeling.  He  was  beaten ;  this 
man  was  his  master.  He  reeled  swiftly  and 
lunged  down  to  the  ground,  saw  his  Colt  lying 
there,  and  seized  it  weakly;  then  he  staggered 
to  his  feet  and  fired  wildly.  But  the  Sheriff 
had  anticipated  him,  and  had  stooped  and  se- 
cured his  own  weapon.  Hardeman's  shot  went 
wild,  and  as  he  dimly  perceived  the  Sheriff 
armed,  and  advancing  on  him,  panic,  great  and 
overwhelming,  seized  him.  The  desire  for  life 
had  come.  He  saw  that  the  Sheriff,  fearless  and 
unconquerable,  was  going  to  close  in  again,  and 
he  tried  to  fire  but  his  arm  wavered  weakly; 
then  he  turned  with  a  cry  of  rage  and  ran — ran 
lumberingly,  desperately,  despairingly.  The 
coward  in  his  nature  was  supreme.  Death  he 
dreaded,  and  it  was  coming  there  behind  him. 

The  Sheriff,  holding  his  wounded  breast  with 
his  left  hand,  sped  across  the  clearing  after  the 
fleeing  man.  Hardeman  looked  backward  and 
made  for  protection  and  vantage  behind  a  fallen 
tree. 

"  Fight,"  cried  the  Sheriff  hoarsely,  as  he  came 
rushing  on,  "  fight — damn  you  I  " 

For  answer,  the  outlaw  crouched  behind  the 
tree  and  fired.     The  Sheriff  was  coming  on  like 


316  TEE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

a  whirlwind.  The  bullet  struck  him,  but  he 
staggered  ahead.  Hardeman  shifted  his  posi- 
tion and  fired  yet  again — and  instantly  the 
Sheriff's  Colt  sent  its  deadl}'  missile. 

The  outlaw  lunged  into  the  clearing;  his  arms 
fell  heavily,  he  half  turned,  and  then  burrowed 
his  shoulder  into  the  earth. 

The  Sheriff  fell  to  his  knee,  his  leg  hard  hit. 
His  chest  wound  was  gaping,  and  his  face  was 
pale  from  his  injuries.  The  captain  and  Tala- 
bam  stooped  to  aid  him;  but  the  fighting  fury 
w^as'  not  yet  spent.  He  shook  himself  free  and 
stood  over  the  outlaw's  body.  ^'  Damn  the 
woman  killer ! ' '  he  exclaimed  hoarsely,  "  he  just 
had  to  fight — he  had  to  I  " 

Then  the  avenger  steadied  himself. 

"  Say,  fellows,'^  he  whispered,  in  a  breathless 
curiously  sympathetic  voice.  "  There  was  an 
awful  thing  happened  once  in  Oregon — that's 
one  reason  I'm  here.  Send  this  message  across 
the  water  to  Seattle  quick,  and  telegraph  it  on. 
He  drew  a  piece  of  paper  from  his  trousers 
pocket,  and  took  a  pencil  from  Butts'  extended 
hand;  and  as  the  men  crowded  around  he 
scrawled  the  following  message : 
The  Deputy  Sheriff  of  Wasco. 

Centreville,  Wasco  Co.,  Oregon. 

^'  I  got  him,  and  he  won't  come  back,  tliist 
tell  poor  Jeff." 


THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO.  317 

And  then  he  signed  it,  "  The  Sheriff  of  Wasco." 

A  low  growl  of  pleasure  came  from  the  men, 
and  two  of  them  prepared  to  start  immediately 
to  forward  the  news. 

The  Sheriff  limped  towards  the  cabin,  sup- 
ported by  Butts.  But  suddenly  they  halted,  for 
in  that  same  instant  there  came  a  sound  from  the 
cabin,  a  smothered  exclamation  of  joy  and  relief 
and  a  soft  flutter  of  woman's  garments,  and  Myra 
came  running,  her  eyes,  wide  with  fear  and  hope, 
fixed  on  the  conqueror's  face.  She  whispered 
but  one  word  ''  — Sheriff  I  "  and  with  a  fearful 
compassionate  movement  her  hand  hovered  above 
his  bare,  wounded  breast.  The  assemblage  of 
men  fell  back  a  little  and  gave  her  first  place  as 
she  led  him,  limping  and  leaning  slightly  upon 
her,  back  towards  the  cabin. 

Mr.  John  Thorn,  tremendously  excited,  was 
already  rushing  thence  to  meet  them. 

"  Sheriff,''  he  exclaimed,  half  choking, 
"  Sheriff,  you're  a  terrible  scrapper.  Are  you 
much  hurt,  my  boy?  " 

"  Nope,''  retorted  the  limping  man,  "  just 
kinder  shook  up,  I  guess;  that's  all."  And  he 
looked  down  at  Myra. 

She  laughed  a  tremulous,  glad  little  sob  of  a 
laugh,  and  with  a  tender  quiver  in  her  voice 
humored  his  stoicism,  echoing  after  him : 

"  Just  a  little  shook  up,  that's  all.    Can't  you 


318  THE  SHERIFF  OF  WASCO. 

see  for  yourself,  father?  "     Which  seemed  per- 
fectly to  satisfy  the  warrior. 

But  Dr.  Backer  was  sent  for;  and  until  he  ap- 
peared the  Sheriff  spent  the  morning  stretched 
on  a  bunk  in  one  of  the  cabins;  and  the  atten- 
tions which  the  eager  patrolmen  proceeded  to 
shower  upon  him  threatened  at  first  to  make  the 
doctor's  aid  unnecessary.  The  Sheriff  thanked 
them  gratefully  but  absent-mindedly,  until  at 
last  Captain  Butts  interposed. 

"  Here  boys,  clear  out  and  give  him  air.  Va- 
mose, all  o'  you.  Don't  you  know  any  better  'n 
to  crowd  a  sick  man  like  that?  " 

With  a  sudden  dawning  of  comprehension  they 
went,  and  the  friendly  captain  himself  followed 
them.  The  white-faced  Sheriff,  with  much  of  his 
late  warlike  spirit  spent,  was  left  alone  with  the 
gentler  ministrations  of  Myra  and  her  father. 

With  an  eager,  lover-like  smile  the  sick  man 
held  out  his  hand  in  appeal  to  the  girl;  she, 
blushing,  slipped  hers  within  it,  and  thus  the 
pair  of  them  turned  to  Mr.  John  Thorn  and 
looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

Taken  unawares,  the  old  gentleman  swelled, 
coughed,  and  spluttered  apoplectically  for  the 
first  moment  or  two ;  then  he  surrendered. 

'^  I  knew  it.  I  felt  it  in  my  bones.  Sheriff,"  he 
whispered  proudly,  "  kiss  her,  you  terror — she's 
yours ! " 

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